


AU Drabbles

by jack-of-alltrades (bumblebeeJacky)



Category: Banana Bus Squad
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ghost Hunters, Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Alternate Universe - Homeless, Alternate Universe - Hybrids, Alternate Universe - Immortality, Angel Moo Snuckel, Angry Evan, Angst, Day / Liquid God Delirious, Demon CaRtOoNz, Family Fluff, Ghost H2ODelirious, Ghost Hunters Brian and Daithi, Glass Hearts AU, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Character Death, Night / Air God Evan, Single Dad Tyler, Strings of Fate, brothers Evan and Jaren, humans brock and brian, its evan hes immortal, protective dad/brother brian
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-16
Updated: 2019-10-03
Packaged: 2019-10-29 08:37:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 28
Words: 30,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17804708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bumblebeeJacky/pseuds/jack-of-alltrades
Summary: A bunch of AU fic drabbles I didn't have titles for, enjoy!





	1. Evan doesn't get mad (Gods AU)

Evan didn’t get angry often. In fact, he didn’t usually get angry at all – he didn’t know the last time he’d felt truly furious, felt like there was fire in his veins, heart thumping so hard in his chest he could feel it, face on fire as his eyes narrowed, hands clenched, had to resist throwing something, possibly something breakable just to let the shatter and destruction quell the rage.

It started with a video. A video some of his friends made, a stupid joke alike the many others they made, and people who took the joke out of hand. People who took the joke and made it into all of the bad things his friends have ever done or said. Rumors spreading, lies increasing, friends trying to defend themselves and each other only to be snapped at. Evan threw in his two cents as well and told them all it was just a joke and that he didn’t mean what he said, only to get some… Choice words shot back in return. Some defended him, some trying to make it worse – and succeeding. Boy, humans were quick to jump to conclusions and side with false information for no point other than pettiness and vague amusement.

He couldn’t stand it. He couldn’t, it made him so frustrated just looking at the screen of his phone. A new notification. Jonathan, Brock and Brian defending him. Disgusting language and slander thrown right back and his heart dropping to his gut. Cold twisted into nausea and a chill down his spine. Lava in his veins went cold as he scrolled through comment after comment directed at his boyfriends. Word after word they couldn’t find defense against when they kept coming, getting nastier and nastier.

His back itched. Constellations and clusters and planets itching to break free of the soft feathers that shift in colors ever so slowly to reflect the galaxies above them, something so chaotic, mysterious and beautiful, so vast and infinite reflected on his back itching to break free and fly him among the stars with the wind he controlled so well holding up his wings. He wanted to create storms, itched to get rid of those that had caused such grief among him and his still newfound family. But he wouldn’t. As much as Evan wanted to cause destruction, to take his grief and frustrations out on those that wronged him, instead he found a more… Creative way to solve it. Well, creative compared to the way he _could_ handle it.

 _Crash,_ a glass plate smashed against the wall. No one was home except for Evan, Brian and Jon having chosen to accompany Brock to the grocery store. He felt mildly bad about breaking dishes. The fury quickly broke down the guilt and took over. A shattered glass joined the remains of the plate on the floor. Evan felt bad again, and this time, the rage _couldn’t_ stamp it down. He paced back and forth for a few minutes, fingers tugging at his hair. He didn’t know what to do, how to deal with it. Usually he had them there, but this time, he’d assured them he’d be fine on his own. God, they’d come back and find glass on the floor and they’d know he couldn’t handle himself, they couldn’t leave him alone.

_He was a god **unworthy** of the title. _

A shout, furious and _animalistic_ , the sound echoing throughout their empty house, perhaps even worrying neighbors, but that wasn’t his concern. Not in the slightest. Jon knew how to handle anger. Brian taught him ways to deal. Brock knew how to handle them all. But they weren’t here. _They weren’t here_ and all he could see was _red_ , all he could _feel_ was a cold chill, didn’t even _register_ the glass he was walking on at first. He _at least_ had the decency to pick up the pieces bit by bit with his bare hands and throw them away before darting outside, slammed the door.

Needed to soothe the itch in his back and spread his wings and fly _fly **fly**_ , scream until his hoarse voice left him entirely. And that’s what he did. Evan flew as far as he could in one direction until he stopped seeing people, houses, civilization, and that’s where he finally stopped.

He _yelled_ , screamed, hurt, enraged, disappointed, afraid. All sorts of emotions swirling into something he couldn’t contain on his own but had no other way of doing so. He _screamed, screamed, screamed_ until he couldn’t scream anymore, wings flapping rapidly in the warm air to keep him up when his own feet couldn’t support him.

He stayed in the air until his wings gave up on him too, dropped him down to the grass below him as he gasped for breath, trying to ride it out by himself.

_Just like he used to._

He stayed there until night fell, picked stray pieces of glass out of his skin as the cold night air chilled him to the bone and finally gave him some relief from the mixture of flames and water holding his head under. Evan realized all too late that he didn’t have his phone on him, and the sickening guilt took over the swirl of emotion that made him so furious before. He tried to speak as he sat in the field by himself, but his voice wouldn’t cooperate, nothing more than a hoarse squeak as the result of his actions, the price he had to pay for his poor decisions.

At least he didn’t hurt anyone. That’s what was important.

So Evan stayed out all night, wings stretching out as he stared up at the stars he tried to fly under every night, reached a hand up as if he could touch them again from where he was, but he didn’t miss being among the constellations by himself. He had something much better waiting for him at home, and despite the anxiety that came from the thought of returning, he couldn’t imagine what they’d feel at the sight that greeted them…

They’d walk in and faint traces of blood on the floor, find the glass in the garbage and perhaps pieces he missed, his phone left on the counter, clearly forgotten. They wouldn’t understand, their humans would get so scared, panicked, fretting over what could have possibly happened, but Jonathan knew. Jon knew, and that’s why he wouldn’t go searching or tear the world up to find Evan. Because he knew he’d be back to explain himself in due time. He knew how the owl worked, and he knew he’d come running right back to explain and apologize.

And that’s just what Evan did.

The sun was barely in the sky before he was off, impatient to run home like he always did. He spotted Jonathan sat on the porch, arms resting on his knees and head on his arms, eyes lidded as he stared at nothing. Clearly waiting.

Evan said nothing as he landed slowly and Jonathan stood up. He just dropped his weight into the other god and accepted the help inside. Evan didn’t say a word as Jonathan calmly called for the two to come downstairs, didn’t even look at them as he was hugged and kissed and questioned, but they seemed to get it at some point. Brock made tea for his throat once they asked why he wasn’t speaking and he just patted his throat in response. Jonathan trailed after to help put something together for him to eat, and Brian got bandages, kept him company and gently bandaged the cuts as he sat on the floor next to Evan’s chair just to be as close to him as he could.

He kept an eye on him, the faraway look Evan was giving his lap, the lack of reaction to the colorful bandages being placed around his fingers and on his palms. He looked startled at Brian as he finally reacted to the kiss pressed to the back of his hand, looked pained as he whispered, “I love you.”

But Brian was relentless – they all knew that, and he grinned as he kissed his cheek softly and whispered it again, again and again until Evan was fighting off a smile and clearly failing as he finally whispered it back, ignoring the wince of Brian as he heard just how weak his voice truly was.

Finally the chaos and misery and frustration failed as Evan crawled off the chair to lie on the floor in front of Brian, just so he could rest his head in his lap, melting with the fingers running through his hair.

He sat up when Brock and Jonathan returned with food and his tea, but he only took a few sips of the tea before instead dragging them all to the couch just so he could curl up with them, get as close as he possibly could as he muttered apologies, only to be assured it was okay, they weren’t mad.

They didn’t make a big fuss about the tears dripping down his face as he heard Jonathan whisper, “We’re proud of you.”

Evan loved them with everything he had – everything he was.


	2. Majestic & Ethereal (Ghost Hunters AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian still felt jumpy, goose bumps along his skin as he lowered his camera, clicking the view screen back into place as he took a few steps back, pacing a bit anxiously as Daithi collected his thoughts silently with a frown on his face. They didn’t know what to do, the clear resolution being to give up and go home for their own safety as well as sanity.

Two AM wasn’t their normal time to be out and about. Daithi knew all sorts of spooky places, but taking Brian to an actual deserted ghost town wasn’t exactly what he had in mind when he said they were going ghost hunting again for the first time in months. Brian was clearly reluctant entrance to the town, the big welcome sign covered in graffiti and illegible, but Daithi walked on, clearly with goals in mind as he held his camera up, Brian’s off and at his side, the band around his wrist on so if he dropped it, it wouldn’t shatter to the ground. Definitely not because that’s happened before, though.

“Come on, Brine, there’s nothin’ to be scared of!” Daithi said as he turned back and saw his companion hesitating. “Ye used to love huntin’ ghosts wit’ me. This is the best place fer it!” Brian furrowed his brows, his free hand’s fingers twisting into his shirt as he considered his options, but inevitably reluctantly trailed after Daithi. He’d never been afraid of the supernatural nor the chance of the people or security they would find, but this place was just… Drained of life, drained of color, it was clear they wouldn’t see any other life aside from them. At least they wouldn’t get arrested.

It was a mild relief to his nerves as Daithi slung an arm over his shoulders, careful of the backpack Brian carried, not commenting on the way he leaned into his side a little bit as he looked around at the buildings. Windows shattered, doors barely hanging onto their hinges if at all, graffiti on a considerable amount of them, cars and homes long since abandoned. A chill ran down his spine, though it had nothing to do with the warm weather and the sunshine despite their location.

Daithi turned the camera to Brian as they walked, catching the almost nervous expression as he looked around at the buildings of chipping paint, old buildings looking moments away from crashing down and the cracking cement. “Come on, Brine, we might have better luck in here!” Daithi said so delightedly, dragging Brian over to a trashed, wood church.

Brian’s fear was briefly forgotten as he looked around in pure fascination at the cracks in the walls and the weeds and grass and vines retaking what used to be theirs. It was kind of beautiful in a way, to see nature finally reclaim itself. Brian ran his fingers along the cracked, somewhat dirty white walls, not even noticing his companion slowing his pace to stay close to Brian as the two walked. It wasn’t that Daithi was afraid of ghosts – in fact, he found them fascinating and incredible – something that shouldn’t be, yet is despite… Well, everything. But Brian had been on edge since they arrived, hell, since Daithi proposed the plan of going ghost hunting to a ghost town.

Hearing voices had them both on edge however, and Brian turned his own camera on as he walked beside Daithi, both holding their cameras up just in case.

_“I know, I know, but I can’t help him yet, I don’t know how to bring someone back and I don’t know what he even did! Admit it; he looks like a crazy motherfucker!”_

What they saw deeper within the church was a man seemingly talking to himself. Daithi furrowed his brows, called out, “Are ye okay?” The man quickly turned to them, eyes wide. Dark hair, brown eyes, a red jacket with white lines on the arms, black jeans and sneakers. “Um… Yeah, yeah, just- sightseeing.” The guy offered, but Brian was confused; no one went sightseeing here. Not in a ghost town unless he was passing through. And he was talking to himself on top of it all.

And Brian called him on it – he liked to speak his mind. At least, on suspicious manners as this because who talks to themselves in an abandoned church in a ghost town? Crazy people. And possibly demons in disguise, who knows. “Who were ya talkin’ to?” He saw the man tense up, seemed to glance to the side which caught Daithi’s eye and he glanced that way too, swear he saw a flash of red and black. “No one! No one. Just- myself. Helps me think…” The guy covered. Brian didn’t believe him, looked mildly panicked as Daithi strolled right up to him and smiled as he offered his hand. “My name is David Nagle, but ye can call me Daithi.”

Brian sputtered behind him, looked like he either wanted to drag his companion back or punch him for the reckless action, but Daithi just glanced back and grinned at him before watching the new guy hesitantly accept his hand and offer a little smile as he shook it. “Evan Fong. You can call me Evan or Vanoss if you want…”

“Evan. Nice t’ meet’cha!” the Irishman greeted happily, either oblivious to Brian’s mild panic behind him, or purposely ignoring it as he spoke to the strange… Stranger. “T’at’s my brudder , Brine.” “Brine?” Evan furrowed his brows and Brian, suspicious and flustered, walked over and lightly smacked Daithi’s arm. “Brian.” He corrected, narrowing his eyes, but he just stepped away to investigate more of the large church, leaving the taller man to converse with Evan, questioning where he came from and how he found himself in the same town as them.

Brian was just running his fingers along the dirty, dusty seats and looking in wonder at the stained glass and walls as he wondered about it, about what it was all like when the town was full of life and the church was packed on Sundays with families or single people come to pray as usual or to find something more than them to give them the hope and faith they needed.

Brian himself wasn’t too religious, though he knew Daithi was, and figured he was likely more relaxed on this little mission of theirs than he himself was.

He wandered around, finding himself in the foyer. Broken windows, a few chairs knocked over, paint chipping on the walls and grass starting to grow in the ground there as well. Brian hummed softly to himself as he looked the room over, little details like the dusty resources desk, the rug ripped up and the colorful chairs. The man considered it for a moment before walking over and righting the knocked over chair. He couldn’t hear Evan and Daithi as well anymore, but he trusted his brotherly best friend – he could be… Dense sometimes, but he wasn’t stupid. If he needed to, he could defend himself and he knew when it was time to walk away.

Being on his own gave him more time to sightsee than ghost hunt anyway, so Brian checked his still running camera and started filming as he walked around slowly, observing his surroundings, felt rather at peace there.

When he heard a noise though, Brian just turned around, camera up, looked bored as he started to ask Daithi what he needed or wanted, but stopped to see a new face. A man with a sort of red aura around him floating just off the ground, a red eye, the other seemingly having been stitched shut with an X over it. He had black hair with horns protruding, a short black beard, and an almost suspicious yet lost look on his face. Brian was frozen, thanked god for the strap that connected his camera tightly to his wrist as his hand released its hold as the guy asked, lost look turning to a wide, almost mischievous grin, “And just what are you doing here?”

Brian couldn’t respond, was sure he probably looked about as white as a sheet, lightheaded and lost. It only took a minute of this- this demon staring, grinning, just _b e i n g_ there for Brian to turn tail and run, yelling for Daithi.

They were where he left them, and while Evan looked… Pained, frustrated, like he had an inkling as to what happened, Daithi looked startled as Brian came out yelling for him. “We have to go, now.” He stated, glancing back toward the room. His companion furrowed his brows and shook his head. “What are ye talkin’ about, Brine? What did’ja see?” He asked, starting to move toward the room to figure out what scared his friend so badly, but then that demon floated out of the room, grin in place, and Evan was walking over to him with a frown while Brian pulled at a now somewhat scared Daithi until he ran out of the church with him.

They ran, ran, ran until Brian could barely breathe and they were forced to stop to catch their breath. They didn’t hear anyone behind him, and Brian was relieved as he and Daithi slumped side-by-side against an abandoned building, gasping for air. It was a few minutes before either moved, Brian slowly detaching himself from the wall and coughing slightly as he breathed more slowly. “Wh… Wha’ de fock was d’at?” Daithi asked quietly, and Brian swallowed thickly, glancing back to the church and seeing no one. His heart started to finally settle in his chest. “A… A demon, I think… Fock, Daithi, we shouldn’t have come ‘ere!” He huffed, hands shaking as he brought up his camera, played back what he had and showed Daithi the brief, clear second of the footage he had of the demon.

They both were quickly regretting this trip in its entirety. They came to investigate and hunt ghosts; neither had been prepared for a red skinned devil that the man Evan clearly knows.

Brian still felt jumpy, goose bumps along his skin as he lowered his camera, clicking the view screen back into place as he took a few steps back, pacing a bit anxiously as Daithi collected his thoughts silently with a frown on his face. They didn’t know what to do, the clear resolution being to give up and go home for their own safety as well as sanity. Ultimately however, as Daithi stood up properly and stated how he wanted to stay until he got the footage they needed, there was a blue flicker of light between them, making them both freeze up.

The almost electric light took shape after a moment, a hockey mask cracked down the middle, looked like the mouth holes were oozing something black, something akin to sludge, a red glow of the right eye from the mask. On the other side of the mask, a face; a wide, scary grin, clown makeup and a bright blue eye looking back at them.

The figure moved just slightly, about as ethereal as he was as he raised a transparent hand, covered and followed by that blue light. His other hand followed and he pointed at both their foreheads, grin almost impossibly wide as they held their breath, heard the almost disembodied sounding voice, _“Can you dodge a bullet?”_

His voice was low, eerie, sending chills down both their spines as they stood frozen in place for at least a minute, but when they both bolted when Daithi shifted and the ghost’s eyes snapped to him. Brian didn’t see if Daithi followed him, he just chose a direction and ran as he saw Daithi do the same.

Once again, the Irishman ran until he was out of breath, until his lungs protested and his legs hurt. He almost threw up then and there when he stopped; dropping to his knees, he heaved and gasped for the much needed air didn’t pause for. He stayed that way for a few minutes, coughing and gasping as his body sorted itself out.

Brian sat back, breath slowing as he wiped a hand across his face and cleared his throat. He finally looked around properly after a moment, calling, “Daithi?” as he examined the area. He found himself at a lake, the water dark with a faint sort of fog over it more in the distance. The wooden dock was old, looked to even be rotting in the water, as was expected, really. “Daithi!” Brian called out again, louder as he looked back the way he came. He felt his gut twist, wasn’t sure if he was supposed to be dismayed or relieved to see no one around him. God, he should have refused, talked Daithi into playing games with him instead of wandering into a ghost town!

Huffing a sigh, Brian turned back around to glance back at the lake, dismay on his face as he looked over the eerie sight before he turned back to the path back to the main town, only to feel his heart jump into his throat, flailing and falling back with a gasp at the face that was close to his. The man just looked confused, tilted his head just so, hazel eyes narrowing at the man on the ground as he shook for a moment before slowly getting up to his feet, grateful the guy stayed still. “Um… And just who are ye? And why were ye that close t’me?” Brian asked, swallowing thickly as the man seemed to relax his shoulders somewhat.

“My name is Brock. I’m your guardian angel, and I’m here to help you, Brian.” He said easily. Brian furrowed his brows, shaking his head slowly. “Angel’s aren’t real…” There was no way. Did he hit his head or something earlier? Maybe he just didn’t remember doing so. Without noticing, his fingers went up to slowly feel through his dyed hair, but he didn’t feel a bump or pain or anything. The man took a step forward, causing Brian to take a step back as his fingers stayed in his hair for a moment.

With a soft sigh and an uttered, “I’d hoped you would believe me,” wings that definitely weren’t there slowly spread from this supposed guardian angel’s back, leaving Brian sputtering as he stared with wide eyes, transfixed by shiny, soft looking light brown and white feathers that looked like they blended into a sort of goldish color in the middle. He looked… Majestic, ethereal – beautiful. Brian couldn’t pull his eyes away. He could see a faint but there light from no obvious source circling his head and god, he was sold. Maybe he should’ve believed him due to the day’s events, but sue him, these things don’t just happen to real people. These things don’t just happen to normal, working 9-5 ghost hunter Brian.

But apparently they do, and slowly, the angel approached him, snapping his fingers in front of him to get his attention and looked rather flustered as wide blue eyes met pretty hazel, and god, if he really was his guardian angel, how fortunate he must be to have one so… Pretty, ethereal, _angelic_.

_Okay, maybe they are real._

“Come on,” The angel uttered, ever so gently resting a hand on Brian’s now relaxed shoulders. “Let’s go find your friend.”

And that’s how Brian ended up lead back safely to the town with the angel at his side, wings folded almost against Brock’s back as they walked side by side, Brian calling out for Daithi as they walked slow along the sidewalk and looked around. It seemed like things were looking up a bit, as it didn’t take long for Daithi to peer outside of a building to see Brian and Brock and immediately rushed over to throw his arms around his brother, hugging him tightly as he spoke too quickly, accent too thick for Brock to really decipher it for a moment.

  Brian leaned back after a moment, putting his hands on Daithi’s cheeks, then shoulders as he smiled wide at his brother, assuring him softly he was fine, this new friend of his helped him, and ensured Daithi was uninjured and okay. It took them a few minutes to speak, but Brock didn’t mind looking away and waiting patiently for them to finish before Brian lightly tugged his shirt to get his attention, smiling meekly as he looked at Daithi, then Brock.

“Um… Daithi, this is… My guardian angel, apparently. Brock.” Daithi, less hesitant than Brian, grinned so widely as he offered a hand to the angel and had it hesitantly taken, shaking it lightly. “T’ank ye for lookin’ out for me brudder. I appreciate it.” He stated happily, Brian rolling his eyes as Brock released his hand, a kind, soft smile on his face. “I don’t mind. Brian is a good man, I’m glad I get to look out for him.”

Daithi’s grin turned to Brian to see the flustered look on his face, gaze pointedly going anywhere except at Brock.

Brock, seeing the look as well, laughed softly, the sound drawing Brian’s attention. He smiled a little at the sound, and soon, they were headed off toward the entrance, having had enough excitement for one day, though Daithi demanded they come back another day to solve these mysteries, and Brian’s immediate response was, “Only if Brock is okay with it and will join us.” Daithi gave the angel a pleading look, and Brock, smiling more indulgently, nodded, resting a comforting hand on Brian’s shoulder as he answered, “I’d love to join you both. I’m rather intrigued by the mysteries of this town as well.” He agreed, and Brian looked delighted as Daithi cheered loudly, excited for their future adventure already.

Rolling his eyes, Brian led them both back out to the car, pausing as Daithi went and climbed into the driver’s side. He turned the car on, as well as the radio as he looked away to give them a moment from the look Brian gave him before turning to Brock.

He was hesitant and quiet, but Brock didn’t push, wings slowly folding over his shoulders as he waited quietly for Brian to get his thoughts together. There was no need to push, he’d get it out eventually, and he had all the time in the world to think about what he wanted to say, pick and choose his words carefully. When he finally did have his words together, Brian swallowed thickly and looked at Brock, blue eyes reflecting the emotions twisting in his gut and making his heart beat quicker as he softly asked, “Um… Can- Can I ask about… You know… Heaven?” He asked softly.

Relief as Brock nodded, a curious look on his face as Brian bit his lip for a moment, glancing up toward the cloudy sky. “Is… Is he… Up there? M-My dad, I mean… Is he?” Brian sounded so hopeful with his stammered words and scattered thoughts, looked more fearful than hopeful as Brock took a moment to answer, but then he whispered, “Yes. I have personally spoken with your father.” A small, jerky nod as Brian’s gaze went down, but blue eyes shot up to meet Hazel again as Brock rested his hands on his upper arms to get his attention, smile so kind, so simple as he murmured, “He’s up there, watching you whenever he can. And he’s proud of you, Brian.”

Within seconds, Brian’s eyes filled with tears, hands shaking lightly. Tears dripped down his cheeks as he opened and closed his mouth for a moment, but he resigned himself to a lack of words and reached out, throwing his arms around Brock’s neck to pull him into a tight hug as he cried, feeling the angel’s arms wrap around his waist, even his wings slowly curling around his charge as fingers trailed up and down his back to soothe him.

When he pulled back slowly, Brian cleared his throat, offering a watery smile as he raised a hand to wipe at his wet, red face but was interrupted as Brock’s hands moved off his waist and to his cheeks to so gently wipe away the tears with his thumbs as he smiled and murmured, “It’s okay, Brian. You don’t need to worry about him anymore. You can go to bed tonight knowing he’s watching you and he’s proud.” He added, not minding the extra tears as the Irishman nodded a little in his hands, not even trying to pull away. Brian almost didn’t want to pull away from the warm hands on his cheeks and the soft look that he could’ve sworn made his heart skip a beat if it wasn’t hammering so hard in his chest already.

“I’m going to see you again, right?” He asked quietly. He couldn’t explain the attachment – perhaps it was because the man was his guardian angel, or how he could personally speak with his father, assure Brian completely that he was okay and that he wouldn’t have to worry. He still wasn’t as religious as Daithi, but he was starting to understand it more. When Brian felt okay enough to go, he was reluctant to pull away from the warm hold, smile shaky as he wiped at his wet eyes with the heels of his hands. Daithi looked so worried for him when Brian got into the passenger side, probably looking as much of a mess as he felt, but Brian leaned back in his seat, waved a hand and gave him a grin to assure him it was okay.

He clearly didn’t buy it, but he didn’t push and turned his gaze forward as he backed the car up while Brian relaxed into his seat, eyes lidded. Seeing Brock standing there still from the windshield, Brian slowly raised a hand and waved slightly, grinning more genuinely as Brock waved right back, spoke despite knowing they couldn’t hear him, but Brian knew exactly what he said.

_“I’ll see you again, Brian.”_


	3. I Don't Know (Gods AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When he was angry, he tended to take out his frustrations on the punching bag Brian bought him or venting it all out to Brock – even chatting with Evan while he flew about in the night sky, watching the twinkling stars between space wings and the galaxy above their heads.

Delirious chose strange places to run off when he was angry or frustrated or sad.

When he was angry, he tended to take out his frustrations on the punching bag Brian bought him or venting it all out to Brock – even chatting with Evan while he flew about in the night sky, watching the twinkling stars between space wings and the galaxy above their heads.

When he was sad, though, it was a bit more difficult to find him. The three of them looked everywhere, and finally, Brian found him – sat on the bottom of their pool, hugging his knees and glaring at the wall. He looked as if he’d been there a while, and it was odd to remember that he was in his natural element; sunk like a brick under the water. Jonathan seemed to take pity on Brian despite his back facing him; the Irishman watching as the water seemed to rise up out of the pool – not all of it, just a bit, clearing a very specific path from the ladder attached to the side over to where Jon sat.

Brian took the offer, climbing down the ladder carefully and stepping over to where Jonathan sat before taking a seat beside him, silently praising the lack of leftover water droplets as he looked over to Jonathan whose blue eyes dragged over to meet Brian’s hazel, but he didn’t move his head. “What’s wrong?” Jon didn’t respond for a moment, but the water moved and he watched for a moment with furrowed brows as the liquid spelled words in midair – _I don’t know_.

“You don’t have to know.” Brian murmured, wrapping an arm around Delirious and pressing a kiss to his wet hair. “Why don’t we go find a comfy, _warm_ , and _less_ soaked spot on the couch for a couple movies, just you and me?” He asked softly, didn’t much mind how wet his shirt sleeve got from Jonathan’s soaking, cold body and clothes, something he only just noticed. His companion was still and silent, didn’t even respond, but a moment later he was pushing to his feet, and Brian scrambled to follow, helping him out of the pool and watching with absolute fascination as Delirious let the water lower into the pool peacefully.

Almost an hour later found Brian and a freshly showered and clothed Jonathan in their pjs on the couch, the Irishman tugging him as close as he could and carding his fingers through his hair as he started up some movie Jon seemed intrigued in on TV.

“I still… Don’t know why.” Jon breathed into his shirt, squirming to get comfortable until he was laying on top of Brian with his arms around his waist, face pressed into his shoulder as he kept staring at the TV. Brian didn’t look at him, just wrapped his arm more around his shoulders while his free hand continued to card through his hair. “You need a haircut.” He murmured, smiling as he felt the soft rumble of Jon’s laugh. “You don’t need to know. Hang with me ‘til it passes, and as long as you want after if you want and…  Just… Yeah. You don’t need to know, Delirious. Just, breathe and exist. I’ll be here.” He nodded, letting his eyelids drop as he rested against Brian.

That’s how they stayed for hours, Delirious falling asleep eventually as Brian quietly watched movie after movie on a low volume, holding his friend close, tightly. When Jon’s sweet dream of all four of them faded out, he almost outright mumbled about the loss before he registered the slow rise and fall of what he was laying on, the warmth, the arms keeping him in place. Slowly raising his head, he looked up at Brian, who was clearly falling asleep, hazel eyes blinking slowly as he stared at the movie without really registering what he was watching.

They stayed that way for even longer, Delirious appreciating the lack of weight on his chest and the rain clouds over his head gone thanks to the man he was laying on. When he was sure Brian was finally asleep as his eyes didn’t open again, he breathed a soft, “I love you…” and he did. He felt his heart swell, felt lighter just by being around him, a smile he couldn’t control on his face as he squeezed Brian gently.

What he didn’t expect though, was the barely audible, “Love ye too,” in response, causing him to freeze up, eyes going wide as his cheeks started to go pink. He didn’t say a word, staring at Brian as his sleepy, hazel eyes blinked back open, lidded as he looked back at Jon and smiled so, so sweetly, “Jus’ thought _I’d_ say it first.” He almost teased, the big, bright smile Delirious gave him made… Everything, everything worth it, especially the soft kiss he received a second later that they both melted into, only breaking apart as they heard someone clear their throat.

Both looked up, faces flushed and surprised to see Brock and Evan looking down at them, Brock smiling almost slyly while Evan grinned widely. “Are we _interrupting_? We were looking for the two of you. We made dinner. _Jon_ might not need it but _you_ sure do, Bri.” Brock stated, Brian laughing at how quickly Jonathan hopped up, not really a _need_ for food so much as a desire. He accepted both Evan and Brock’s hands to get up, sharing a flustered, happy smile with Jonathan as he took a seat across from him at the table, plans in his head to do that _so_ much more often now.


	4. The Bad Ending? (Immortality AU)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Major Character Death Warning

Immortality was very lackluster. At first, he didn’t _know_ he was. A strange power he’d been born with. He may as well have been a vampire, and when he thought about it, the stereotypes came with it, forcing giggles he couldn’t control from his lips at the thought. He liked garlic in his food, he couldn’t turn into a bat (he totally didn’t try when he was a child. Definitely not), he had a reflection in the mirror, and thank goodness for that – how else could he style his hair? Or make it spiky after showers for his own amusement? He didn’t wear capes regardless of his own immense desire to do so (not counting the shirts and jackets he’d tie around his neck when he was little), he didn’t drink blood – found it rather disgusting, in fact, and god, he loved going out on sunny days.

He loved going ice skating often, sunny or cloudy weather. To feel the freedom and the homey feeling of being on the ice, seamless and smooth in his motions as if that was where he truly belonged.

The first to go was his mother.

She was old as he visited for the first time in over a month with his sister for holidays, and she passed before Halloween. He suddenly wasn’t so excited about the holidays awaiting them as he, his sister and their father dealt with it all in their own different and wildly separate days.

And if they noticed the bags under his tired brown eyes, they didn’t say anything. He had problems sleeping from then on, often waking up as her face haunted him in dreamland, something he spoke to no one about. He brushed it aside, put on a smile and soldiered on just as he was expected to.

Only pets followed for a while, but the sudden deaths left him lost, drifting, wondering why everything was coming to an end so quickly.

The second to go was his father.

And like his mother, they handled it in their separate ways. They got the phone call as a concerned neighbor found him, holding onto each other’s hands tightly throughout the funeral, and he had no words to say, nothing to do. He held her hand, he wrapped an arm around her, and he listened and held her as she cried. He let her break down, he let the tears soak into his suit jacket, and he didn’t notice his own tears clouding dark brown eyes and clinging to his lashes, some sliding down his cheeks. He ran his fingers through her hair, he held her, and he put on a smile.

Finally, his sister was the last to go.

Of course he’d noticed his lack of aging as they all got older around him, people he once knew as a young boy getting older and older, dropping when their bodies hit their limits, or accidents they had no control over.

Despite reluctance, he went to her funeral. He entwined his own fingers together on his lap as he stared at the casket lowered into the earth.

He spent years alone. He didn’t make friends, he didn’t try to aim for better, he didn’t go on dates. As everyone he once knew was put in the ground or cremated or taken too early, he didn’t think he had it in him to be social and let someone else in just to watch them go once more, the same harsh and unforgiving way that can never be taken back.

He did get better though. For a while, he was better than he was, a controller in his hands and a dopey smile on his face as he played video game after video game alone in his apartment. He’d been around for years, longer than he should have, it was nice to have something more fun than a piece of paper and a pen. And to his surprise, as he played games, yelled, laughed, enjoyed himself, he made friends. Wildcat came first, and he was hesitant to let himself message the guy back but he did. Recorded games, laughter and dumb jokes between new friends, utter delight as he had someone to say good morning and good night to, someone to change his dreary, tired routine of his lonely days even if they were at a computer somewhere else far away.

Those gaming videos had to go somewhere, and just like that, they had YouTube channels, their bond only strengthening as they chatted and played and laughed. Vanoss and Wildcat, clearly the best duo – especially on competitive games, and slowly but surely, everyone else trickled in after.

Moo was the first one he divulged any of his past to when he was up late recording and got the discord message simply asking how he was doing – perhaps wanting more to ask, ‘why are you still up?’

He asked the same and found Brock couldn’t sleep, so they started a call and chatted until the sun rose.

When he joked about immortality, Brock didn’t take it as a joke. He believed him, and suddenly he found himself regretting ever opening his mouth, doubts filling his mind, and just like that, his chatty mood withered away and they ended the call under his ‘I need sleep’ lie, and Brock’s agreement to that. They didn’t speak again about such things.

Sometimes he’d lie awake in bed, staring at his phone and praying he could gather his courage to turn his demons and loneliness into nothing more than a bad dream, wishing maybe he could message Tyler or Jonathan or Brock or Anthony and admit the truth, tell them what he’d gone through, what he lost, what he was never getting back no matter how hard he cried or how loud he screamed to the heavens until his neighbors checked on him.

And one day, he decided he would try. Brock’s soft way of handling his confession still fresh in his mind a week later, and he messaged the man first, requesting support. He never got a message back, figured he was busy, and brushed off the bad feeling in his stomach, the knots and nausea trying to tell him something was wrong. He messaged Tyler, asking if they could talk, he had something important he needed to talk to him about, but still he received no answer. The nausea became too much and he lost his breakfast, but he figured it was just his stomach rejecting his food choice of the day.

Hours passed with nothing from them, and he messaged Jonathan next, simply a ‘what up?? do you know why everyone is dead today??’ text, and his brows furrowed as he saw the three dots pop up, only to disappear moments later.

They appeared, and they disappeared multiple times, until he finally got a message back, asking what the fuck was wrong with him, how can you even joke about that, sick fuck, check Twitter, check the news, something.

He bit his lip hard, more lost than ever as he flipped on the TV as he opened the social media site, and he had to throw up once again.

He was done. That was it. He should have listened to his gut, and he didn’t, and what kind of sick joke was the universe playing on him? Was he just meant to be alone? He was never cut out for this, he was never made to last and god only knew how he’d made it this far. But with that headline, with those pictures, the comments, the messages, he was done. He tried, he failed, and he was ready to join them.

His phone hit the ground as he stood up. No one heard anything of his passing until a little over a week later, his phone dead on the ground, his TV still going.

****

**_Man held in killings in San Antonio, TX_ **

**_News of the PAX shooting on the 19th_ **

**_On Saturday, 17 were killed, and 5 others were injured_ **

**_More than 10 people have lost their lives_ **

**_17 shot dead in the middle of the January PAX convention_ **

**_YouTubers BigJigglyPanda, I Am Wildcat, Moo Snuckel and others killed in the PAX shooting_ **

 

Headline after headline, gossip, rumors, the information spread like wildfire, and there were no words to describe the pain of the loss everyone felt as they found out exactly who was shot dead.

There was no one to notify of him, and he faded into obscurity as he was likely always meant to.


	5. The Good End? (Immortality AU)

Immortality was very lackluster. At first, he didn’t _know_ he was. A strange power he’d been born with. He may as well have been a vampire, and when he thought about it, the stereotypes came with it, forcing giggles he couldn’t control from his lips at the thought. He liked garlic in his food, he couldn’t turn into a bat (he totally didn’t try when he was a child. Definitely not), he had a reflection in the mirror, and thank goodness for that – how else could he style his hair? Or make it spiky after showers for his own amusement? He didn’t wear capes regardless of his own immense desire to do so (not counting the shirts and jackets he’d tie around his neck when he was little), he didn’t drink blood – found it rather disgusting, in fact, and god, he loved going out on sunny days.

He loved going ice skating often, sunny or cloudy weather. To feel the freedom and the homey feeling of being on the ice, seamless and smooth in his motions as if that was where he truly belonged.

The first to go was his mother.

She was old as he visited for the first time in over a month with his sister for holidays, and she passed before Halloween. He suddenly wasn’t so excited about the holidays awaiting them as he, his sister and their father dealt with it all in their own different and wildly separate days.

And if they noticed the bags under his tired brown eyes, they didn’t say anything. He had problems sleeping from then on, often waking up as her face haunted him in dreamland, something he spoke to no one about. He brushed it aside, put on a smile and soldiered on just as he was expected to.

Only pets followed for a while, but the sudden deaths left him lost, drifting, wondering why everything was coming to an end so quickly.

The second to go was his father.

And like his mother, they handled it in their separate ways. They got the phone call as a concerned neighbor found him, holding onto each other’s hands tightly throughout the funeral, and he had no words to say, nothing to do. He held her hand, he wrapped an arm around her, and he listened and held her as she cried. He let her break down, he let the tears soak into his suit jacket, and he didn’t notice his own tears clouding dark brown eyes and clinging to his lashes, some sliding down his cheeks. He ran his fingers through her hair, he held her, and he put on a smile.

Finally, his sister was the last to go.

Of course he’d noticed his lack of aging as they all got older around him, people he once knew as a young boy getting older and older, dropping when their bodies hit their limits, or accidents they had no control over.

Despite reluctance, he went to her funeral. He entwined his own fingers together on his lap as he stared at the casket lowered into the earth.

He spent years alone. He didn’t make friends, he didn’t try to aim for better, he didn’t go on dates. As everyone he once knew was put in the ground or cremated or taken too early, he didn’t think he had it in him to be social and let someone else in just to watch them go once more, the same harsh and unforgiving way that can never be taken back.

He did get better though. For a while, he was better than he was, a controller in his hands and a dopey smile on his face as he played video game after video game alone in his apartment. He’d been around for years, longer than he should have, it was nice to have something more fun than a piece of paper and a pen. And to his surprise, as he played games, yelled, laughed, enjoyed himself, he made friends. Wildcat came first, and he was hesitant to let himself message the guy back but he did. Recorded games, laughter and dumb jokes between new friends, utter delight as he had someone to say good morning and good night to, someone to change his dreary, tired routine of his lonely days even if they were at a computer somewhere else far away.

Those gaming videos had to go somewhere, and just like that, they had YouTube channels, their bond only strengthening as they chatted and played and laughed. Vanoss and Wildcat, clearly the best duo – especially on competitive games, and slowly but surely, everyone else trickled in after.

Moo was the first one he divulged any of his past to when he was up late recording and got the discord message simply asking how he was doing – perhaps wanting more to ask, ‘why are you still up?’

He asked the same and found Brock couldn’t sleep, so they started a call and chatted until the sun rose.

When he joked about immortality, Brock didn’t take it as a joke. He believed him, and suddenly he found himself regretting ever opening his mouth, doubts filling his mind, and just like that, his chatty mood withered away and they ended the call under his ‘I need sleep’ lie, and Brock’s agreement to that. They didn’t speak again about such things.

Sometimes he’d lie awake in bed, staring at his phone and praying he could gather his courage to turn his demons and loneliness into nothing more than a bad dream, wishing maybe he could message Tyler or Jonathan or Brock or Anthony and admit the truth, tell them what he’d gone through, what he lost, what he was never getting back no matter how hard he cried or how loud he screamed to the heavens until his neighbors checked on him.

And one day, he decided he would try. Brock’s soft way of handling his confession still fresh in his mind a week later, and he messaged the man first, requesting support. It was a matter of minutes before Brock was messaging him back with his encouragement, the smiley faces putting a nervous smile on his face as he took a deep breath, but before he could do much, Brock was calling him, and he didn’t hesitate to answer. Before he could greet their motherly friend, Brock was speaking in that signature mom voice, “You don’t have to do this, you know. Only if you’re comfortable enough, okay? You’re not Dracula, you’re just… Magical, and that’s perfectly okay.” The way he said it had Evan laughing softly into the phone, the sound getting harder the more he went on.

“I’m an immortal, not a gay,” He said, smiling so fondly as Brock tacked on, “That’d be okay too.”

That was the push he needed and after a quick goodbye, he called up Tyler first. He picked up after a few rings, and after ensuring he wasn’t streaming or recording, Evan asked for permission to let those feelings and thoughts and memories out, and when he was given permission, he let loose. Hours. It took hours for him to get it all out, and it was well into the dark of night by the time Evan’s voice trailed off and finally quieted down. Silence followed and just when Evan thought he was asleep, he could hear the soft sound of Tyler’s sigh, the sounds of him shifting, and his voice, the biggest relief Evan had ever heard, “You know I’m not gonna keel over, right?” “But-” “No, listen to me.”

He pressed his lips together as he rocked a little where he sat on his bed with his ankles crossed, but he stayed silent as Tyler spoke, confessed a past almost identical – the same problem, the same losses, the same regret and anxiety and confusion. The lack of confusion, the lack of anxiety, the lack of regret when he heard his friend’s voice, when they played games, when they _laughed_.

And Evan stared at the wall, eyes slowly growing wide in understanding as Tyler explained, as he went silent after, and he understood. He understood what he said better than anyone likely would. They were healing each other, in the same boat patching up each other’s heart every time someone left a rough crack, but now that he knew, maybe it would be better. “Maybe we make each other better.” “I hear that, Ev.” He hadn’t realized he’d spoken aloud.

He didn’t mind. “You up for some GTA?” “Always.”


	6. You Sing Harmonies (Strings Of Fate AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He could see the strings of fate since he was little.

You can’t fight back against fate. You learn that almost immediately. People have tried and people have failed to run away from the fate the universe has planned for them. But no one truly knows their fate until they’ve come face to face with it. People live, people die. They marry, they divorce, they become well known or they fade into obscurity. You can’t fight back against fate. But he tried.

He found out where his red string was leading him, and he tried to fight fate. He tried to untie it, he tried to pull it off, he tried to cut it, but that red string tied around his index finger couldn’t be cut, it couldn’t be untied, it was as if it were locked in place, made of something so much stronger than soft red string.

He could always see the strings, ever since he was little. He was covered in strings, as were everyone else. He could see pink strings turn a pitch void black when people broke up for good, the loose string finally sliding off their fingers when they let go. He could see the brown strings tied around his own wrist connecting him to his mother, father and sister. When Luke came into his life, dated his sister, made friends with him, he felt bad when he saw their strings turn black before sliding off rather quickly, each moving on. And when he expected the brown strings to turn black and disappear as well, it didn’t. He stayed connected to Luke, conversing rather often with his new favorite person. Brothers from the get go. His brown string got lines of blue mixed in with it.

He told him about his ability one day, explained each color to Luke and what the colors met. He was surprised at how fascinated his friend was with it, but he sat there beside him, arm tossed over his shoulders as he pointed at each of the strings on himself, invisible to Luke’s eyes as he told him about each one, even colors not there against his skin anymore.

Black is the color of pessimism and a lack of hope, unfriendly and intimidating yet refined, elegant and confident. Gray is unemotional, detached, something to convey gloom and depression and frustration. Brown is reliable, safe, warm and reassuring – honesty and sincerity, the strings connecting good families to each other. The string connecting himself and Luke together. He laughed softly at the hug he received from the man as he stated that part, big smiles on both their faces as he continued, much more relaxed against him. Purple is a harder one to pinpoint, the color of the introvert, something compassionate, sensitive and intuitive, something tied like necklaces around little kids, fading if the person stopped being true. Something to inspire reflection and self awareness.

Green was growth, health. He’d seen gray strings tied around the necks of people in hospitals, colors draining to gray despite smiles when their time was up, but those that still had hope would fade to green if they had a chance to heal, to get better. It could also mean someone being possessive, like when people were far too controlling of their loved ones or possessive and materialistic. He preferred the former meaning to the latter, understandably.

Blue was something calm, trusting. Loyalty, integrity, responsibility, confidence and peace. That was his favorite one. Pink was one of love, naturally, but it could be many things. Unrealistic and overly optimistic where there was no hope in a situation, or tender, nurturing, safety and vulnerability. He told Luke how they’d fade to black if the love faded or if someone’s ‘rose colored glasses’ broke. He told Luke he’d seen him and his sister’s pink strings on their pinky fingers turn black and fade away when the love was gone and they moved on.

Yellow was one most kids had too – energy, something light and uplifting and confident. It inspired clear thinking, quick decision making, but it also symbolized being over-critical, cowardice and anxiety. Orange is happiness, joy, and sociality, a string of an extrovert that got energy and excitement, enthusiasm and absolute delight from being social, from being positive and doing things and enjoying just existing. It also meant insincerity, self indulgence and exhibitionism.

Luke snorted at the word and Jonathan rolled his eyes at him as he hesitated before pressing his index fingers together, hesitant to tell him. Most people had red strings. It was rare if red strings ever went away. They could mean aggression and action, but mostly, they meant love. True love. The stories about the red string of fate doesn’t lie, but if you aren’t in the same room as the one your strings connect you to, the string won’t look like it’s connected to anything but you.

His voice grew quieter. Luke stayed silent, listening attentively to his brother. It can be sexual, yeah, but it also meant courage, strength, power, excitement – soulmates you’re destined for, whether it’s platonic or… Not. One of the other strings connecting himself to Luke was half red, half brown where it faded to the string of stability and reassurance. Luke looked fondly at their hands as he thought about it before ruffling dark hair and giving him a big, goofy grin. They were always meant to meet and make friends. But that left him concerned as to where his red string would lead. He wouldn’t know unless he met them.

The only person he’d shown himself to other than Luke so far, and vice verse, was Ohm. Some sort of goofy masked gamer pact made by two sleepy men that made friends and talked about nothing for hours. He’d been trying to click something, but then he was clicking the video button without realizing at first, eyes blurry and tired, and he squinted, furrowed his brows as he stared at the screen, trying to click the screen share option to show him something dumb. But then Ohm was quietly saying, “Delirious? Did- Did you mean to do that?”

He thought he hit the screen share button as he hummed his curiosity, blinking tired blue eyes as he clicked back to Discord only to see his own face. His heart leapt into his throat as he stared at his own wide eyes on a pale, somewhat freckled face and Ohm was trying to reassure him, swear he could turn off the camera and they’d forget all about it but then Jon was falling out of his chair with a startled shout and Luke was running into the room from his living room in concern and while Jon was glad his friend was visiting, he cursed the fact he got to see him at his weakest like that.

Luke found his best friend lying on the ground, staring up at the ceiling with wide eyes, breathing slowly. It was unnerving as he stared at him before looking at the screen and oh, he understood. But Ryan’s tired, worried face was on display as well, but Luke couldn’t hear him from the headphones that went down with Jon. He tugged the headset off, resting them on the edge of the chair as he pulled Jon up to his feet, watching him wobble for a moment. He shot a tiny, reassuring smile to the screen as he held his brother up, and he saw the horrified, concerned expression on Ohm falter, the corner of his lips twitching up. He trusted Luke.

Luke stayed there as he helped Jon back into his seat, dropped his headset in his lap and watched as he looked down at it before reaching down slowly and putting them back on, Ohm immediately asking if he was okay. No comments about his appearance, about him, just if he was okay, did you hurt your head on the way down, I’m so glad Luke was there to check on you, that could’ve been bad.

And just like that, a little smile crossed Jon’s face  before he dissolved into his loud, goofy laughter, holding onto the desk and Luke’s arm for support as he laughed, as Luke snorted a laugh as well as he patted his back. Suddenly it wasn’t so scary that Ryan had seen him, that he could see Ryan in turn.

Once Luke left them to it, suddenly they had a lot more to talk about as Ryan softly whispered, “Blue and brown huh…”

Clearly he didn’t intend to be heard, but Jon went still and asked if he could see them as he raised a hand and he saw the concern, horror reflect in Ryan’s eyes through the screen as he shook his head, tried to lie and say he was reading something, he saw something, he didn’t see the strings, and Jon cracked a fond smile as he said he could see them too, then Ryan was lifting his hand and Jon saw the strings connect through the screen that should have been impossible. Blue and brown, just like his and Luke’s. Ryan looked amazed. Jon wasn’t that surprised, a big happy smile on his face that he was connected to his friend in such a way.

But then a thought occurred to him as Luke was in the room. He’d seen those flickers of red, red that wasn’t there before; red, pink, blue, orange, and his lips were moving without his permission, “You’re in love with-with-with Cartoonz?” and poor Ohm, he was stammering his way through a denial, waving his hands as his cheeks went red, but that only put that multicolored string of fate on display for Jonathan to examine. “He had- had a red string too.” The denials and movements stopped and Jon knew he had his attention. “I’ll be your- your- your wingman if you be mine.” He offered, smiling at the way Ohm tried to stifle a giggle threatening to escape over the words.

Ryan smiled fondly, thinking about it before he sighed heavily as if it was the hardest decision of his life before giggling again as he nodded and grinned at Jon. “Okay, sure. Fuck it, I’m in, man.” He agreed, but his smile faltered, blanching as Jon called, “Cartoonz! Can you come here?” Luke was coming back into the room after a moment and Jon could see the same multicolored string connecting him to Ryan as he looked at his brother in oblivious confusion. Jon winked at Ohm before dragging Luke over, putting his headset on his brother and pushing him into the chair as he casually went, “You- you have a red string. Ohm has a red string. Discuss.” And then he was leaving the room as Luke heard the soft thump of Ohm’s forehead meeting his desk.

He wasn’t going to beat around the bush, not when he’d heard and seen firsthand how Luke got when it came to Ryan, the obvious care and trust they weren’t subtle with, even if they hit on each other more often than not or got protective. If the ability to see strings made him some sort of matchmaker, then so be it. Jon would be the best goddamn matchmaker his friends could ask for.

That didn’t make it any less frustrating for them that he was so casual about his ability to see strings, specific lines of color connecting. Brown and blue strings on everyone’s fingers including his own as they all grouped up and played together. Jon took his new duty seriously after seeing how happy Ryan and Luke seemed as they hit on each other more, only leaving themselves after everyone else had just so they could stop recording and whisper goodnights or good mornings along with words of affection meant only for each other. Luke smacked his back relatively hard, the action thinly veiled as a friendly action. Jon figured it was more for Ryan than it was a ‘friendly action’. He didn’t mind, grin wide and dopey as he teased his brother.

He laughed pretty hard when everyone twisted off a call again, leaving Brock who was about to say his goodnights to Jonathan until Jon was stating that his red string was covered in blue, pink, brown and purple. He connected to Brian’s blue, red, pink, brown and orange, each a rainbow array of colors on one string that connected them together. He told Brian the same information during the next call when it was down to Jon and Brock again and Brian was about to go. He seemed to have a habit of telling them about their strings and ditching them to talk about it, but it hadn’t bitten him in the ass yet.

Until Ryan was texting him that he had a plan, that it was payback for ditching him with Luke – even if it helped and that was beside the point shut up Jon.

Ryan didn’t like looking at the strings. He wore a bandana all the time, leading most people to think he was blind. Those that didn’t know he was Ohmwrecker, anyway. But Ryan was really pushing his own comfort zone to help Jonathan and by gods he appreciated the assistance.

Evan. It always circled back to Evan when it came to Jon. They were connected in so many ways. Not like Smii7y and Kryoz who ran on the same wavelength, synchronized thoughts and words until they were basically the same person. Jon was loud, brash, stammering his way through terrible ideas and plans and when he put the plans into action, who else was there at his side helping besides Evan Fong, one of his favorite gamers and one of his closest best friends he told almost everything to?

Everything except the strings of fate.

He was going to the convention that Toonz, Brock, Brian and others were going to. He could go stay with himself and Toonz and make sure he wasn’t connected to any of his friends, or maybe he'd find his soulmate there, who knows. He refused, sputtering with disgusted noises at the thought of staying in the same room as Cartoonz and Ohm because god only knew what they’d do and he’d like to be able to actually sleep thank you very much. It was a good idea no matter how anxiety inducing it was, and if he was going to put it into action, he’d need to stay with someone – someone that wasn’t his two friends likely bound to lock him out and fuck during the convention or something of the sort. He pretended to gag, listening to how hard Ohm laughed at the sound.

He ended up texting Evan when the call ended, typing and erasing words over and over and over for who knew how long until the three dots popped up from Evan with a text that read, ‘if you got murdered and your ghost is trying to speak luke would be better at finding your killer’. Jon snorted softly at the words.

 **Owl Dusty** : if you got murdered and your ghost is trying to speak luke would be better at finding your killer  
**H2Hoe** : what if it was cartoonz murdering me tho  
**Owl Dusty** : is your ghost gonna fly your ass to Canada to tell me luke murdered you  
**H2Hoe** : well Someone’s gotta solve the crimes  
**Owl Dusty** : did you need something tho??  
**H2Hoe** : yeah bitch I need to stay w you at the con  
**Owl Dusty** : wait what  
**H2Hoe** : yeah ohm told me you were goin. im not rooming w them only to be kicked out when they wanna fuck  
**Owl Dusty** : ,,, fair enough but like ???????  
**H2Hoe** : im fine w it if that’s what you’re asking

**Owl Dusty  
Mobile**

Jon wrinkled his nose as he stared at the name on his phone, but he knew he couldn’t ignore the call, so he slid his phone along the bar and pressed it to his ear, not even getting a word out before Evan was asking if he really wanted to come. “Are you sure, Delirious?” He went silent, thinking about it, about his decision. If anyone else had to see his face, he’d choose Evan first, but he wouldn’t mind their other friends seeing him. He could do this. He would do it – for them, for himself, and for that red and blue string on his finger.

That didn’t make it any less nerve wracking when he was leaning against the wall two weeks later, anxious as he waited for his roommate. No one else had showed up yet, and when he saw anyone coming, if it wasn’t black hair and brown eyes he recognized, he’d pretend he just got there, going into his room. Brock and Brian arrived first, Daithi, Tyler, Anthony and Lui showed up first. Ryan showed up next, and Jon didn’t hide from him, instead giving him a tight hug and a big smile before he pointed  out where their room was, saying that Luke was off getting food and Jon was waiting for Evan. Ryan examined the strings along his fingers, seeing the one connecting them to each other, the red and blue, flecks of purple and green wrapped around his finger, a string that never felt so heavy before.

Ryan thumbed the soft string around Jonathan’s thumb, brown and blue, connecting himself and Jon together with a familial bond. Instead of seeing Luke right off the bat, Ryan opted to take a supportive wingman role and hung out with Jon until Evan finally arrived. He was grateful to have a hand to squeeze the life out of when he saw Evan headed their way, likely heading to his room as he pulled his suitcase behind him.

He didn’t seem to think much of them seeing as he hadn’t seen them in person before, glancing up and furrowing his brows as he asked what they were waiting for outside of his room. Jon let go of Ryan’s hand, shot Evan a toothy grin as he shot back, “Waiting for my- my roommate to arrive!” and the recognition on Evan’s face, the surprised, hopeful look that had a smile blossoming on his lips within seconds, the seconds Ryan actually saw his face before the Canadian was hugging his best friend tightly, greeting him gleefully.

Ryan didn’t mind his full focus being on Jonathan however, it gave him time to observe the pretty swirl of colors – blue and red being the most obvious ones – that connected the two. They entwined nicely, the colors blended beautifully as they were meant to, smiles on their faces as Evan’s hands gripped Jon’s upper arms, delight in his eyes as brown eyes met pretty blue, and Jon patted his cheeks, laughing when Evan pouted at him, “Come on, let’s choose our beds and get set up, okay?” Evan nodded, swapping their positions so he could open the door and dart inside with his luggage.

Catching the eyebrow raise from Ryan, Jon gave him a quick hug and a grin, a nod, he’ll talk to Evan, he’ll tell him, just give him time.

Ryan’s brows furrowed as he saw the colorful string leading Jon to Evan start fading in color, turning a bright white as he followed his companion, his soulmate. He’d seen this happen once before, and he wasn’t worried. Things would turn out just fine, he thought as he wandered his way to he and Cartoonz’ room. White meant goodness, light, innocence, purity and perfection. White represents a successful beginning, and they would be just fine.


	7. No Requiem (Major Character Death - Mentioned)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evan wasn’t normally dark and dreary. But today, he wasn’t the one they knew – he was someone else. Storm clouds bringing lightning and thunder, the apprehension and worry when the storm knocked your power out, muddy boots tracking prints and the fatigue of illness weighing you down; he wasn’t… Evan today – he didn’t know what to do or how to react, how he should react. He kept his eyes downcast as he let them inside, didn’t seem to hear what they were saying. He could hear but he wasn’t… Listening.
> 
> And god, it took everything in them to not lose their minds as Evan drifted, walked away without a word after letting them in, figured they’d make themselves at home and leave him to his confused misery he didn’t fully understand.

The news hit them all differently.

Evan wasn’t sure who it hurt the most. Probably his family and the people who actually knew him, he didn’t exactly fit in that category. Brian seemed so torn apart by it, but he seemed more bitter than anything when the real truth came out about what he was like, what he had done; who he truly was behind the scenes and the mask and the lies. There wasn’t much Evan could do to comfort him, especially when if he tried to save face or cover for him to make the truth less painful, it only infuriated Brian further, lit the match to absolute fury he was usually so good at keeping a cap on, keeping things light.

Others Evan wasn’t particularly close to, such as Grizzy and Eli, John and Jaren, were having a harder time in mourning along with their group. They all dealt with it in their own ways, leaving Evan to ditch games and discord calls, avoid the knocking on his door when someone showed up, either to drop off mail or check on him. His thoughts were dark, his body exhausted and the bags under his eyes showing that as he usually spent more time pacing back and forth in his room than doing anything. His thoughts were scrambled, unpleasant, and he didn’t know how to occupy himself properly to avoid them.

The guys all showing up as a group at his door was a shock, but Evan was just itching to get back to his pacing, to push away the memory of the news that morning and the tweets and messages, Brian’s blatant rage that could and would not be quelled and the quiet melancholy that covered them like a blanket. A thick, stifling blanket that stole away the air from their very lungs and made everything just that much more unbearable.

Evan was soft for the most part. Evan was the sunshine through the window first thing in the morning, warming your face and helping you get ready for the day. He was the comfort most longed for, holidays spent with family, curling up warm and comfortable in your own bed after a long day. He was fingers running through hair; your favorite sweatpants on a weekend, when you were nervous to open up to someone you cared for only to find they understood and weren’t going to judge you.

Red, pink and orange sunsets from a beach, the first snowfall of winter, sugar sweet smiles and calloused hands from playing music for so many years.

Evan wasn’t normally dark and dreary. But today, he wasn’t the one they knew – he was someone else. Storm clouds bringing lightning and thunder, the apprehension and worry when the storm knocked your power out, muddy boots tracking prints and the fatigue of illness weighing you down; he wasn’t… _Evan_ today – he didn’t know what to do or how to react, how he should react. He kept his eyes downcast as he let them inside, didn’t seem to hear what they were saying. He could hear but he wasn’t… Listening.

And god, it took everything in them to not lose their minds as Evan drifted, walked away without a word after letting them in, figured they’d make themselves at home and leave him to his confused misery he didn’t fully understand.

Brian found him half an hour later in his room, silent as he sat on the edge of the bed, blue eyes looking over his friend as Evan laid on the bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. Silence stretched between them, and as much as Brian wanted to say something, anything, he couldn’t. What was there to say that hadn’t already been said a million times before?

“Should I be sad?” The words startled him, the voice soft, weak, and Brian sighed as his hand found Evan’s and gave it a gentle squeeze. “I don’t… Ev, I don’t know. On one hand I feel sad, yeah, but on t’e other…” _On the other, he took each olive branch you tried to extend, offers to play games and hang out and be friends and he broke them piece by piece_.

“He did all that stuff, he said all that stuff about us – about _me_ … Why should I break in pieces?” Why did he feel that crack down his heart at the news that someone he tried to be friends with was gone forever? Why did it hit him as hard as it could when he didn’t even really know the guy, when he never wanted to be friends with Evan and made that abundantly clear?

Why did it hurt so much, why did tears drip down his cheeks when he thought about it, why, why, why.

There were no answers he could have gotten that would solve the situation. There was nothing that could bring a light to it. Of course he’d expressed his sympathies, only to have some accept it and thank him and some particularly petty, bitter people throw it back in his face, _you don’t even know him, you weren’t his friend, and he certainly didn’t see you as his own._

Evan was pulled from his thoughts by Brian’s hand softly squeezing his again, blue eyes meeting his and a weak smile being offered. Brian didn’t have words; he had no magic quick fix to the situation or any way to really make Evan feel better or take the thoughts away. “I hate t’at he said all t’at shit about ye, Ev,” his friend started, brows furrowing as he picked his words carefully. “He didn’t… Deserve t’at, but ye deserve better…”

Maybe the pain would fade in time and Evan would start to understand why he felt so awful – perhaps because despite everything, they _had_ been friends once. And while he didn’t know what changed, something did, and now Mini was gone.

He was certainly far from alone, however, the one thing he could rely on to never change.


	8. Picture Perfect (Gods AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Swear after swear, threats and insults and words he should have never said, a few millennia worth of storms and anger and absolute hatred spilling from his tongue like poison, an intent to kill and the itch to fight, to see blood spill like he so desired spill against yellow and green grass wet from rain.
> 
> His movements slowed, his heartbeat relaxed, his face softened just so. Evan had his eyes closed, and Jon wasn’t entirely sure he was even awake anymore until he whispered that question and had a weak, pained voice answer him, “Fight if you need to, smash if it helps to get control.”

_It’s not worth it, it’s not working_

Jon had been doing so well. He had his frustration and fury under control, bubbling ‘safely’ just under the surface. Using the punching bag and exercises Brian taught him to use to control the rage, but it was going wrong, so, _so_ wrong. He was all things deadly – a sky turning green, the pressure building up in a volcano, poison on his tongue and fire he couldn’t control burning through his veins while he just barely resisted doing something such as punching a wall or breaking something.

He’d seen the other god show up, a general check up on the gods of the sun and moon. He’d seen the guy talk down to Brock and Brian so much. He’d seen Evan clenching his fists as his feathers ruffled. Brock and Brian grabbing their hands, seemingly calm as ever as the two started to lead their godly boyfriends away. Brian basically saying that the new god was worth less than a flea, was about as much a man as one. Then Brian was knocked to the ground, blood dripping from his nose and hatred of his own in his eyes. The god was much closer, looked beyond furious. Jonathan dealt with him.

Now he didn’t know what to do. Pacing back and forth outside, Brock taking care of Brian – Evan deadly silent on the patio as he watched Jon pace; don’t get him wrong, he was furious too, but he didn’t express his anger the same way Jonathan did. _It was so picture perfect, the four of them living happily together, and now it was clear their kind couldn’t s t a n d the humans_. _It was perfect – t h e y were perfect, then other gods started showing up because of them and Brock and Brian kept getting hurt and god, part of Jon wanted to turn tail and run, leave in hopes they’d be safe! The other side, however…_

He bit hard into his lip, a slight tremble in his arms as he tensed further. Then Evan was there in front of him, blue eyes met brown, “Scream.” The only word that left his lips. Silence followed as they stared at each other, then Evan was shoving Jon lightly, that one word demanding and bitter on his tongue and Jon was only getting angrier, returning the action with a shove of his own. “What the- the- the _fuck_ are you _doing_ , Vanoss?”

Another shove. Another demand. The word hissed from soft lips, frustration in once happy brown eyes. Jon returning the favor once again, angering Evan further. Just as well, of course they’d be angry together, sharing that same burning fire and the need for blood under their skins. Finally, Jon listened to the command as he raised his voice, yelled at Evan to cut the shit and stop pushing him when he was already so frustrated, didn’t want to harm the owl.

_He’s fire, blood and dirt. The cold chill of winter met with the flood from a volcano. Something bubbling up over time only to spill over and destroy everything in its path. Bones and blood and dark tunnels and rooms without a speck of light to brighten dreary, terrifying settings. Too much salt, too much fire, a need for that very same blood and the death and suffering of those against him. A storm just on the horizon bringing tornados with wind speeds made to rip everything up and destroy everything in its path until it dissipated._

_And Evan was demanding to see its wrath firsthand._

_If Evan wants to see him as he is, so be it._

And he screamed.

Swear after swear, threats and insults and words he should have never said, a few millennia worth of storms and anger and absolute hatred spilling from his tongue like poison, an intent to kill and the itch to fight, to see blood spill like he so desired spill against yellow and green grass wet from rain. Evan didn’t block the punch which frustrated Jon further, but he returned the favor just as quick.

Brock and Brian ran out, calling at them to stop, but the second after Jon’s wide blue eyes went to them, hands gripped his shoulders tightly, a snarl on usually smiling lips as the hissed words fell like rain, easy, simple, like this was meant to happen all along. _I’m your target, you motherfucker._ And just like that, Evan was on the ground again. Jon got his wish to see blood dripping down the grass, red drops spat violently at the blades, red dripping down the corner of Evan’s mouth and god, how hard did he hit him?

His knuckles hurt, but it was a fleeting thought as Evan climbed back to his feet, demanded that one thing of Jon again and he complied. Again. Again, again, again.

Another punch hit its mark, another punch returned. Brock and Brian worried out of their minds nearby but unable to safely put a stop to it. Jon saw the tissue in Brian’s nose to stem the blood, bandages stuck over the bridge, and he yelled again, hit Evan again and got knocked to the ground himself.

Why was this their go to, he wondered as he thrashed under Evan, yelled, managing to kick him off and reverse their positions. _You wanted it to be picture **perfect**!_ It was so disgustingly far from picture perfect. _It’s not working_! Hands gripped Evan’s shirt, shoved him back into the dirt as he sat on his hips. Only noted vaguely that Evan wasn’t exactly fighting back anymore as his fist met the other’s face and chest over and over again, airing thoughts and anger and frustration unhealthily out onto the one person that could take it.

His movements slowed, his heartbeat relaxed, his face softened just so. Evan had his eyes closed, and Jon wasn’t entirely sure he was even awake anymore until he whispered that question and had a weak, pained voice answer him, “ _Fight if you need to, smash if it helps to get control_ …”

Getting control back over his anger was not worth this. Not the bloodied, bruised face, narrowed brown eyes trying to hide how much the hits actually hurt, the shaky breaths. Did he break something? There was a chance. Volcano bubbled over, lava solidifying at its base before it caused real, true damage to everything around it. Before it killed every living thing.

Jonathan was the one to lift Evan up and carry him inside, staying back to listen to Brian’s lecture he couldn’t focus on as Brock cleaned Evan up now too. His attention was drawn back by the soft hand to his cheek, and one set of blue was far off, distracted, frustrated while the other was worried, hurt, confused. You can’t do this Jonathan, you can’t just take it out on someone when you’re angry. Jon vaguely noted the surprise, the frustration that mirrored his own on Brian’s face when he told him Evan made him do it, told him to.

When they got Evan settled on the couch with an ice pack against his cheek and bandages over his nose and pressed to the big bruise on his cheek, Jon sat in front of the couch, back pressed to it and his head leaning against Evan’s thigh, feeling soft, shaky fingers curl through his hair as Brian and Brock spoke softly to each other from the doorway, clear worry and fear about what to do with the two of them. “It’s okay,” Evan whispered, weak, tired, and Jon looked over, watching as he kept his eyes closed, kept talking. “’s okay. Told you to do it. Take it out on me if it helps you get control…”

“I’m not doing that again.”

“’s okay. Worked this time… We’ll figure somethin’ better out next time..”

Jon was all dirt and blood and bones, lava and the dangerous, dark mysteries of the sea.

Evan was all cold air and soft feathers and warm summers, hot sand and the way a sky can be stormy one second, clear the next.

Finally, the fire burning him from the inside out cooled under soft snowflakes as Evan whispered, “I love you, Jon,” before he finally fell asleep, and what a wild, terrifying pair they make.

“I love you too.”


	9. Secrets (Gods AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I have something to tell you.” That was not how the god expected to start the day as he opened the door to his son. Evan had moved out a while ago, now nineteen and in college for veterinary science, passionate about animals and doing something with it.

“I have something to tell you.” That was not how the god expected to start the day as he opened the door to his son. Evan had moved out a while ago, now nineteen and in college for veterinary science, passionate about animals and doing something with it.

He still visited his adoptive – and immortal – fathers as often as he could, usually for something like breakfast or dinner or holidays. He still went home during breaks despite having moved into an apartment, always happy to see the delighted look on Brock’s face when he opened the door and got the surprise of his son there. Brock was beyond motherly, and Evan loved his parents with all his heart.

“What’s up, Evan?” He asked, ushering his son inside and closing the door as Evan went and took a seat at the table, fidgeting as he furrowed his brows. Brock went and took a seat close to him, taking one of his hands as he gave him a concerned look, questioned again what was bothering his son. “What if I… Hypothetically, met another god?” Brock furrowed his brows, and what incredible luck, Brian walked in, still half asleep in his pjs and sipping coffee. He smiled wide to see Evan though, setting the cup down so the god of death could tug him up and squeeze him tight for a moment, giving him a quick greeting before he was back to drinking his coffee. “Um, Bri,” Brock began, gave Evan a reassuring smile at the nervous look he was shot seconds later.

“Bri, Evan was just talking to be about what would happen if he – hypothetically – met another god.” Brian’s hand stopped mid-way to lifting his mug to his lips, eyes narrowing a little as he glanced at Brock, then Evan before he slowly lowered the mug. “I think that all depends on them, Brocky, don’t you?” Brock could see the concern, smiling softly at his husband as he asked what the god was like.

“So, hypothetically…” “Of course.” “Hypothetically, his name would be Jonathan, or Delirious, and… Hypothetically, he’d be a really, really good guy… He’s super funny, and actually really thoughtful and nice to hang out with and he can glow in the dark which is really fucking weird how can someone do that even if they are a god? Like that’s gotta be some strange, strong power for someone to have to be able to glow like that all night right? I don’t think it’s some weird fucked up radiation thing like he’s gotta have power right-” His rambling was cut short by Brian putting a hand over his mouth with such an amused, fond smile. When he moved his hand, Evan added a soft, “All hypothetically of course…” as if he hadn’t already blown it.

Brock laughed softly as Evan’s cheeks went red, puffing a cheek out as he directed his gaze to the table. As Brian went and got him a glass of water, Brock put a hand on his shoulder with a soft laugh as he assured him it was okay. “I always knew we weren’t the only gods out there. We’re only two of so, so many. It’s alright if you just so happened to meet this god you’re describing, of course. Just don’t keep us in the dark, okay, sweetheart?” Evan nodded quickly, accepting a brief, tight hug from his dad as Brian returned. He took a sip of the water, and then Brian got a tight hug as well.

“So, is there anything else you want to tell us?” Brian asked, and Evan pursed his lips, thinking about it before, to their surprise, he started speaking again. “I’m not organized. And I’m always late to stuff. Dinners, classes sometimes, meet ups, you name it. And I always talk too much about anything that can come to mind because silence can be kind of uncomfortable and awkward sometimes,” Brock shot Brian a brief smile, stopping him from interrupting with a _that’s not quite what I meant_ , allowing Evan to continue telling them just about everything on his mind.

“I can’t think straight, like, ever, I can think about something for so long until my thoughts get really jumbled and it’s really frustrating. I’m also bisexual, and Sydney and I weren’t going the same direction anymore and that’s okay we’re still friends and I might have started dating Delirious like a month ago before I found out he was a god and who the fuck glows in the dark? Seriously? He was like a blue glow stick you give little kids to play with!” Brock had to stifle laughter behind his hand as Evan made wide gestures, hectic thoughts and memories spilling out like a waterfall. Brian himself was struggling to keep it together.

“Sometimes I spend entire days I don’t have class crying because it gets really stressful sometimes and that’s okay because I get through in the end, and some of my friends think I’m weird cause I use analog clocks like a normal person and I don’t know when to stop sometimes but you guys accept that and I appreciate it a lot, I really do!” A soft snort left Brian, only getting a glance from Evan. “I can be kind of passive aggressive and the dark freaks me out sometimes and I don’t like the dentist still and apparently I still act a lot like a kid which is okay too!” “So you’re dating Jonathan?” Brock asked fondly, cutting Evan’s rambles short. Cheeks red again, he buried his face in his hands and nodded after letting out a long whine.

“It’s okay, Evan,” Brian said, smirking as he ran his fingers through Evan’s hair briefly, watching the pout he was given in response. “We still love you, along with how much you ramble. And how much you love this glow stick god.”

“Dad!”


	10. Free Pizza For Life! (Homeless AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I guess we took it a little too far  
> cause you ended up doing some time  
> when they slammed the door to your cell  
> I swear I heard you yell  
> Free Pizza For Life."

Evan loved pizza.

They had no money, so that made just living a bit of a struggle. It was harder in winter, and Evan could remember when they had the biggest problem a few years back mid winter when the freezing became too much and frost bite took Brian’s left arm. Their relatives had heard the news after they gave the hospital their names and Brian had managed to get a prosthetic, but they ran away once it had healed properly.

Brian and Evan lived a life on the streets together, refused help from stuck up relatives that only offered assistance with things like homing and work as long as they changed who they were – a guy who liked video games and cats more than other human beings, and the other an open bisexual with a metal arm and a tendency to patronize and anger everyone around him except his self proclaimed little brother.

On the night they ran again, Evan clasped his right hand with Brian’s metal left, looked into each other’s eyes as they decided what to do before their elders could do it for them, so after packing up and sneaking 20$ from their aunt, they snuck out the window of the guest room Evan had been staying in. A last minute decision had Evan taking the owl plush they had as a sort of memento of his late parents. Brian didn’t question it, instead smiling as he took Evan’s free hand and led him away. They spent the night in an alley cuddled up together, and it was a lot more comforting to him to be free with his brother than suffering with abusive relatives that wouldn’t hear reason.

They started sleeping in an abandoned, wheel-less van with no gas – or engine for that matter. It didn’t matter, it was shelter from the cold chill and the rain and whatever else the weather had to offer.

Brian struggled to not laugh one winter when he woke up to a strange sound and Evan softly claimed his foot was frozen to the window. Desperation drove them to dishonesty – distinguished and vile in some ways. They were sweet boys, kind and charming despite ragged appearances sometimes when they didn’t bother trying to brush their hair or cleaning up their faces. Thank god for bathrooms in stores and restaurants. They stole things like checkbooks and money from people not paying any attention to their surroundings. They shared the food they got with some of their new friends. Anthony, Daithi and Tyler had quickly become some of the best friends Evan and Brian could ask for.

One night, they had taken it too far, however, as Evan was arrested. Evan was the only one caught for the crimes, and Brian was petrified for what they would do, how would Evan fare in a prison cell? But he couldn’t help but worry less with Anthony, Daithi and Tyler at his sides as Evan screamed through the car window, _free pizza for life!_

It had taken two weeks for each one of them to work odd jobs and save up enough to bail Evan out. It shook them all to see how terrified and pale he was, a mess more ragged than when he lived on the street with them.

And much to Evan’s amusement, their celebration for his release was to order pizza as a group – and pay with forgery. When they knock you down, you can’t stay on the ground. One night, laying together mid summer staring up at a clear sky together, Evan heard Brian whisper to him, _we made some mistakes, but for the most parts, I have no regrets_. Evan sat up, and so did Brian, who watched as his little brother shifted over and dropped his head on his shoulder, holding his right hand as he whispered right back, _sometimes I felt a little ashamed, but it all worked out in the end._ A big smile that soothed some of Brian’s guilt, but the guilt only truly started fading as his cold, metal hand touched Evan’s cheek, blue eyes narrowed as he apologized finally. “Sorry yer the one t’ey caught. I wish it could’a been me, brot’er.”

Evan threw his arms around Brian’s neck, squeezing him with a little smile. “I’m not saying we were wrong or that we were right. All I know is what we want.”

Matching, mischievous grins as he leaned back and they bumped their fists together, flesh and metal as they spoke in unison, “Free pizza for _life_.”


	11. The Rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anywhere whenever  
> Apart but still together

Evan likes the rain. He loves it, in fact. He loves to sit at the window sill with his wings folded around his shoulders, watching as the rain fell and formed puddles around the building. Sometimes Jonathan would sit beside him and the raccoon would watch not so much because he himself enjoyed the rain but because he enjoyed Evan’s company. Evan liked to watch the rain when he was all alone, enjoying the soft, soothing distraction from the mild loneliness he couldn’t control when their home was so, so quiet.

Sometimes, he’d go out in the rain. He’d go out and feel soothing cool droplets wetting his feathers as he flew around the backyard or he sat down and just… Existed in the moment before anyone returned home – so far the only person to have caught him doing so was Brock.

Brock had immediately brought Evan inside before he could get sick, forced him to dry off and bundled him up in comfortable clothes. He let Evan pick the comfy clothes. Evan chose Jonathan’s sweatpants and Tyler’s favorite hoodie. The boys all came home after running errands all day to see Brock making dinner and Evan at the window, wide honey eyes watching the raindrops fall. He didn’t seem to notice their entrance until Tyler was right beside Evan, pulling him into a hug with a pleasant greeting and Evan threw his arms around his neck. _Do you like watching the rain?_ Tyler had asked. Evan smiled wide and nodded. Brock explained what happened earlier to them. Tyler got the hoodie off so Evan could stretch his wings and took him to bed after eating.

The days were calm and simple in their household. Jon and Ryan even stopped by their bedroom to softly say goodnight, grin at a flustered, happy Evan and tell Tyler to, _make sure this winged dummy doesn’t get sick, okay?_ Tyler had nodded as Ryan whispered, _thank you for everything you do, Tyler,_ and Evan dropped off soon after.

When Tyler awoke, Evan was sat on the bed staring out the nearby window with rapt attention, legs folded underneath him and wings relaxed. Sitting up, he wrapped his arms around Evan’s waist and rested his chin on his shoulder. Evan didn’t flinch. _The rain is pretty_ , the owl whispered, leaning back into Tyler, though not taking his gaze away from the rain outside pelting the window. _I know I’m not alone… I wonder if the raccoon likes the rain too… I wonder if Wildcat likes the rain…_ Sleepy, soft brown eyes met his own bright blues, lips forming the words, _does he?_ And Tyler couldn’t help but press the softest kiss he could to the corner of Evan’s mouth as he answered back, words dropping like the rain outside as Evan curled up into him and dozed once more, more content to hear his boyfriend’s voice than the rain that always soothed him so.

_He loves the rain. And he loves Vanoss more._


	12. Cul Tona

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Don’t get me wrong, I have no fucking idea what you just said, but I appreciate it.” Brian couldn’t help but snort as a startled laugh escaped him, causing the others to let out their own soft laughter as he imagined Evan grinning in satisfaction at his screen for what he considered was a win because he made the ever so angry Brian Michael Hanby laugh when he’d rather punch a hole in his wall.

It started when Brian kept leaving recordings involving him. Every time he showed up, Brian would leave. Every time someone would invite him, he’d sit there, fingers crossed that the invitation wasn’t accepted and if it was, he’d ditch. If he was brought up in conversation, Brian would sit there silently seething. And when during a call with Brock, Jack, Anthony, Tyler, Jon and Daithi, they were all getting quiet as Brian grumbled some barely audible swears after one of them brought him up and finally, Brock was the one to ask quietly why he got so angry about the man.

“Why wouldn’t I?” Brian snapped, paused and muttered an apology to Brock. He didn’t deserve to be yelled at. “Ye can’t tell me ye guys aren’t mad too. Ye heard what he said an’ what he did! Ye know what he’s like!” “Bri, we’re not happy either, we just aren’t… _Avoiding_ him – we just don’t get angry like ya do.” Jack offered, but Brian hissed another swear and sat back in his chair, tensed up. “Well, it’s a helluva lot better t’an if I _saw_ him! I’d knock his fockin’ _teeth_ out fer what he did! **_Cic_** **_maith_** ** _Sa_** ** _tóin_** **_atá_** ** _de_** ** _dlíth_** ** _air!_** ** _Cul_** **_tona_**.” The angry words fell easy from his lips, and they were all speechless for a moment, especially the two that could _understand_ the bitter words. “Brian, calm down, he’s not here, okay? We were just wondering, it’s okay.” Brock tried to soothe him, ever the good and soft man to try and see the good and silver linings despite his own frustrations, “Maybe he’ll apologize and we can figure it out or something.” “ ** _Is_** ** _Cuma_** ** _sa toll_** ** _feisithe_** ** _liomsa_**!” They fell back into silence, no longer playing the game. All just silent in frustrated, angry thought as Brian seethed as his computer.

As he was about to get up from his computer and ditch altogether, he heard a different voice and how didn’t he hear the alert Discord gave when someone joined? “Thanks, Brian.” Soft – genuinely appreciative for his defensive anger from a man who never got angry himself, who was more likely to forgive terrible transgressions directed at him rather than to cry and yell and seethe like he should. He looked at the list of people in the chat now.

 _Moo Snuckel_  
JackSepticEye  
Big Jiggly Panda  
I Am Wildcat  
H2ODelirious  
Daithi De Nogla  
VanossGaming.

“Don’t get me wrong, I have no fucking idea what you just said, but I appreciate it.” Brian couldn’t help but snort as a startled laugh escaped him, causing the others to let out their own soft laughter as he imagined Evan grinning in satisfaction at his screen for what he considered was a _win_ because he made the ever so angry Brian Michael Hanby laugh when he’d rather punch a hole in his wall.

“So, what is it you said?” He asked, and Brian hummed in thought before stating blandly, “He needs a good kick up the arse. And _dickhead_.” Evan laughed a bit as well and Brian smiled faintly at his screen. “Ev?” “Yeah?” “I’m glad yer our friend. And me, Brocky and Jack’s kid.” Brock didn’t protest the words, nor did anyone else. “I’m glad too, Brian. Thanks for teaching me unintentionally how to say dickhead in Irish.” “Who’s up for games?” Jonathan tossed in, and after a sound of confusion from Jack, Tyler, Anthony and Daithi voiced their agreements. “What? It’s getting too angry and serious in here. I’m up for some GTA.” Tyler stated and soon, they were all gaming.

A message from MiniLadd, a grumble of Brian’s, “ _Cul_ _tona_.” And Evan being the one to soothe his angry, defensive friend with a laugh, an agreement and a, “isn’t it so much better to forget him than get angry though?”

So he let Mini fade from his mind and just delightfully focused on making Evan – and everyone else laugh until he was laughing along with his loud friends with their infectious joy and laughter, the fire in his eyes replaced with something softer, something _nicer_. Bless Evan and his new delight with _cul_ _tona_.


	13. Wood Statues (God of Creation AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s pretty wild having a god of creation living in the Team 6 house with them. Anything they could ever want, the world at the tips of Evan’s fingers and all they had to do was ask. But they wouldn’t ask. They would never, because they didn’t need such things from him to prove he loved and cared for their odd little family.

“Evan.”

The warning tone had him stopping in the middle of what he was doing – creating some atrocity as he was one to do. It could be a weird inanimate object, it could be a living thing, it could be a clone of something else he’s made. It entertained Jon to no end, but mama Brock? Not so much…

Childish pouts wouldn’t work on him, so with a clap of his hands around it, the strange creation was gone and instead, an origami paper heart to offer in it’s place, putting a gentle smile on Brock’s face as he accepted it. “Thank you, Evan, this is wonderful.” A soft kiss pressed to his cheek and a big, bright smile. Evan could be so childish sometimes – as could they all. Never a dull moment in the Team 6 house, but Brock tried to manage them and damage control as best he could.

Brock was the first one that found out about Evan’s powers. Late at night, he was truly being motherly – making sure everyone got to bed lest he deal with a bunch of grumpy adults who didn’t get enough sleep. He peered into Evan’s room from the doorway, the first one to turn in early, and what he saw was a man with eyes shifting between violet and golden as his fingers gently poked and prodded at a glimmering light in his hands, a little creature created from the light – a strange… Beyond unnatural creature with long legs, one too many eyes, a mouth where it shouldn’t be. And when they locked eyes, with a quick clap of his hands, the thing was gone and Brock was left rather… Horrified, and with so many questions he didn’t know how to ask.

Evan was on his feet in seconds, a look on his face Brock didn’t care to remember. Something, sad, something scared, like he expected him to run off and tell the others. But instead, Brock stepped into his room, pushed the door shut behind him before resting hands on Evan’s shoulders with a soft, kind smile, a breathed assurance that he didn’t need to worry – he wasn’t going to _out_ Evan and he wasn’t going to _kick_ him out either. So they stayed up until the sun was in the sky once more and Evan’s ramblings about his history and his power and his god status were finally coming to a close.

They were both exhausted, and the guys didn’t really question it too much when searching for Brock later in the day and found him and Evan curled up together, dead asleep.

Anthony made them dinner and Brian woke them up. It was like… You know how they say if one Christmas light goes out, so do the rest? Or maybe dominos is better. Knock over one and the rest go down. That’s what it was like, for Brian to gently wake Brock and shake Evan’s shoulder. Brock woke with a soft greeting with a smile on his face, while Evan looked more groggy and out of it, bright golden eyes looking up tiredly at Brian. And that’s how Brian found out too, confusion and concern over Evan’s usually brown eyes had the tired god blurting out the truth before he could even think to make up excuses.

For Christmas, it surprised them all to find little boxes all the same size – one for each of them. And inside those little long boxes were necklaces. Brian’s had a wolf charm, Tyler’s a leopard, Anthony a panda, Jon a raccoon, Brock an eagle and so on. While they  all wondered how Evan got such pretty charms and how expensive they were, it just took a wink and a grin toward Brock and Brian to get them to understand.

When Jon found out, it was because Evan was choosing power over skill to make a wood figurine of a wolf with an eagle on it’s back for Brock’s birthday, and his best friend walked in on that, oddly reminiscent of Brock discovering it. The difference was, Evan didn’t even try to hide it. He glanced over, grinned and gave a brief wave before going back to forming the wood figurine slowly but surely. Jonathan was more delighted than shocked, getting permission to sit down and watch with absolute delight and intrigue, looked that much more delighted as he finally finished it and plucked the floating wooden figurine out of thin air.

When he showed Jon, it had an _E & J_ carved on the stand. When he showed Brock on his birthday, both boys were pulled into a tight hug by the man, a big grin on his face as he thanked them. It sat on his nightstand in his room from then on, so he could see it each morning.

Evan wasn’t really secretive about his relationship with Jonathan and Tyler. He loved the two with all his heart. Tyler was the tallest of them and Evan the shortest. Evan liked to lay on them when they all slept together – it was most comfortable when it was all three of them. Tyler was good for reaching tall shelves and soft comforts. He was good at resting gentle hands on shaking shoulders or wet cheeks and soothing wild emotions with a soft smile and simple reassurances, an _ _it’ll be okay__. Jonathan was good at video games and hugs. He was good at pulling them into tight hugs that showed how much he loved them both without words needed, and he was good at solving problems. It wasn’t much of a surprise when Evan would make Jon solve a problem in his game or deal with a scary section for him because he could handle scary games better than the Canadian could.

They found out more about this god they fell in love with when things were getting heated and an invite to join them in the bedroom was immediately turned down with a grin and an excuse. Another sly comment, another excuse. Over and over. Eventually, Evan turned to Brock with his question and it all felt much easier to handle and understand with the explanation the mom friend gave him.

When he was once again asked if he wanted to join them and he refused, Jon told him he could ask them to stop asking _him_ that if it wasn’t right or something of the sort. It all made more sense when Evan cut their fun short by sitting them down and explaining. Well, it didn’t cut their fun short – it just explained why he never joined them or initiated it. He had more fun creating and playing video games and making music than being in the bedroom with them.

It suited him just fine. He could make dinner or spend time with the others when they were… _Distracted_ , and he did enjoy making little creations or creatures. He took inspiration from Spy Kids and made a tiny zoo to put them in. He and Jon delighted in them.

Tyler’s surprised screech when the catfish escaped made it all that much more worth it. Jon and Evan were in the kitchen, watching Brock make breakfast for everyone. It certainly scared the shit out of them all to hear _Tyler_ of all people _scream_ like that, but the boys understood why when they saw the situation with the little catfish on his desk sitting down staring at him and god that thing really was kind of creepy. Evan quickly removed the creature and he and Jon apologized to Tyler by way of cookies and kisses.

It’s pretty wild having a god of creation living in the Team 6 house with them. Anything they could ever want, the world at the tips of Evan’s fingers and all they had to do was ask. But they wouldn’t ask. They would never, because they didn’t need such things from him to prove he loved and cared for their odd little family.

The combined wood statues of each of them hanging onto each other or holding hands sitting on the mantle in the living room said enough.


	14. I'll Keep The Kids

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Couple little things you won't miss.

It was snowing when he messaged him. Cold, unforgiving, a chill of winter not everyone could handle or survive. Well, except his boys.

But that cold, unforgiving weather matched his mood, matched his tone. A tone the boys recognized all too well.

The boys could remember all the yelling and fighting that went on. First it was small bickering about simple things, then it became louder, angrier, and Evan started taking his little brother’s hand and leading him to another room or outside to get away from it. Tyler started having the boys stay with their uncles Cameron and Eric, or Brock and Brian. Anything to get them out of the house and away from the fighting.

They could hear screaming matches sometimes. It never became violent, never became more than angry yells, but it was scary. It painted a picture in their tired heads; tall, towering monsters, brightly colored, blood oozing, with sharp, long, venomous claws and teeth. It was terrifying – angry, loud and scary creatures ready to draw said blood and cause mayhem and chaos and pain wherever they go.

It was terrifying, it even had chills down Evan’s spine and tears in his eyes as well as he pulled an already crying Jaren outside in the dark as they heard the screaming match of Craig and Tyler in their bedroom. Evan felt bad for causing worry, but Brock and Brian lived closest to the family with their own son Daithi, and he knew they’d be safest there waiting for the screaming to finally stop. God, the fear on Brock’s face when he opened the door to his eight year old nephew holding the hand of his five year old brother.

When Evan woke up on uncle Brock’s couch with a blanket tucked around him and Tyler looking so worriedly down at him, that monster that matched Craig shattered like glass leaving a kind man who dealt only in a loud voice, soft touches and a grin that lit up a room. He wasn’t a bad person, he wasn’t a monster; he wanted what was _best_ for the boys and… Maybe Craig wasn’t it.

They spent the next few days with Brock and Brian, delighted as they played with Daithi or drew or napped together and remained oblivious to the fighting. And when they were finally allowed to go home, Tyler had to find a way to tell them they couldn’t live there anymore, they would have to go somewhere else. They ended up staying with Anthony until Tyler found a place nearby, and they made the new place their home. The boys didn’t see Craig anymore – only in passing, moments that didn’t matter in the long run.

It took _years_ for them to finally ask. Brian gave them their answer as Daithi hugged his two younger – and smaller cousins; _friends_. Tyler and Craig had to get a divorce for the kids’ sakes as well as their own. Evan hugged Jaren tightly, chests _aching_ as they learned the truth about what happened.

Craig wrote down everything he wanted in the divorce like he was told to.

Evan and Jaren never made the list.


	15. No Chance (Hybrids AU)

_It was a nightmare. A terrible, awful nightmare the raccoon couldn’t escape from. His mind was fogged and when he looked down at Evan, he didn’t **see** Evan, only a monster, a man with a syringe in one hand and the other an open hand, reaching out, trying to grab him, to hurt him. He himself was merciless with the knife he held in his hand, his sharp teeth and a need to dig in, shred and destroy the man before him and never turn back to that awful, awful place. He wouldn’t go back. He wouldn’t give him a chance to protest._

_Jon squeezed his eyes shut, fought back the tears threatening to escape and show his weakness. When he opened his eyes, the doctor was gone. And in his place…_

_Evan. Evan, bruised, beaten, tears pouring down tanned cheeks and mixing with the blood coating his skin and clothes – his **own** blood. He was begging, pleading in a cracking voice that Jon stop, please, I’ll leave if you want me to I won’t tell anyone just please stop hurting me._

_The knife fell from his fingertips and he pressed the heels of his own bloodied hands into his eyes for a moment before opening his eyes again._

_No Evan, only a grave. A headstone that read **Evan Fong, age 26, taken by a monster with a knife. He will be missed.**_

_A shout ripped from his throat, pleading that he come back, that this all be some sick **joke**. There’s no way Evan’s just **gone** there’s no way someone with a knife got to him, he was clever, he was smart! And yet he was taken out by some… **psycho** with a **knife** …_

_Oh god._

**_What have you done…?_ **


	16. Not Alone (Hybrid AU) (PT 2 of chapter 15)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PT 2

**_Oh g o d._ **

_What did he do? Where is Evan? There’s no way! He would never lay a hand on him! He wouldn’t! So why did the grave say that? Why would they lie? How did he **actually** die, and who put him out here all by himself?_

_Evan didn’t like being all by himself._

_He shouldn’t be alone!_

_He didn’t realize he’d yelled the words, ears  flat to his head as he opened his eyes without ever realizing he’d closed them to begin with and he was back home. He was in the backyard, Evan flying about above him. “Evan!” He’d called, panic in his voice and in seconds, his new friend was on his feet and Jon was pulling him into his arms, felt like something was pressing on his lungs as he gasped for hair, fingers gripping his jacket so tightly. Tried so hard to hold in the soft sobs, but that didn’t do anything for the tears forming wet patches on Evan’s shirt as his hands went around Jon._

_“I’m sorry, Ev, I’d never hurt you, I won’t le_ ave you alone…”

Tired blue eyes blinked open to see Evan sitting on his knees in front of the couch, wings twitching behind him to show the anxiety he clearly felt as his hand rested on Jon’s arm. “Are… Are you okay?” He asked quietly, brown eyes wide as he looked at his face. Jonathan stayed silent as he slowly sat up, well aware of the sweat making his skin sticky and the fear making his heart pump. No more sick jokes, no more twists to a guilt and worry he didn’t even know he had? “’m fine.” He answered, gratefully accepted the hug Evan offered as the owl stood only to sit on the edge of the couch. “I won’t leave you alone, okay, Ev? You’re kinda stuck with me now.”

His heart squeezed at the bright smile Evan offered him, the softly responded, “It’s cool. I don’t like being alone anyway.” _You don’t have to say that, I **know** that._ “Well… Good. Cause you aren’t gonna be alone again. We’re buddies for _life_ , Fong.” He said, held up a hand and grinned as Evan clasped it with his own. “How about I make breakfast for a change?” Evan offered, to which Jon scoffed, smile fond as they got up.

“Only if I get to prevent you from burning the kitchen down.”


	17. Family (Lucifer AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Despite the lack of any actual, true soul within Jonathan, for whatever reason, he cared intensely about these humans. Humans he would do anything to ensure the safety of.

It wasn’t often Ryan, Luke and Gorilla would do this. With Gorilla too busy with work and Luke and Ryan having a date night, Squirrel was dropped off in the home he shared with Ryan without a word. Not to say he minded, or was surprised at _all_. Jon was lounging on the couch, hand hanging off the couch twirling one of his demon blades as he watched TV. A car outside, the door opening and little feet racing across the door, a familiar voice calling, “Be good, baby!” before the door closed again.

Then there was Joe, the eight year old hopping over the back of the couch and landing atop Jon with a big, delighted smile as the demon grinned without even glancing at the kid, arm wrapping around the kid. Ever since Jon started living with Ryan rather than Luke, he’d made fast friends with the detective’s son. The kid was smart, clever in a way he couldn’t explain, a good soul – something that couldn’t be tainted, and he wasn’t dumb in the slightest. It was hard to sneak things past him, so Jon didn’t. He embraced it, embraced who this kid was and he would tell things to him straight.

Instead of going as a prince on Halloween, they dressed him up as a zombie squirrel and the kid was absolutely delighted. It warmed the demon’s heart when he let some of his _real_ face show through and instead of being scared of the bone and torn flesh, he was completely ecstatic. As far as he knew, it was just a very realistic zombie costume. Or, perhaps Squirrel knew the truth and he simply didn’t _care_ about the truth of what Jonathan Smith was. He cares about who _Jon_ was. Sure, maybe he was a demon – a violent, sex and death crazed monster and lead torturer of Hell itself. But he was also determined, kind in a way.

Squirrel could run into him or flop on him all he _wanted_ and all Jon would do was cuddle the kid like he wanted or teach him new tricks. Usually with knives. He was someone who threatened _lives_ simply so Anthony could be safe and keep his job, he was someone who decked someone in a bar alongside Anthony and Ryan due to someone insulting Brian.

They were all kind of a weird family; especially with the fact that all the people Jon considered close friends, not counting the devil himself, was a mortal – a human living a human _life_ that would one day _die_ in some way or another. And despite the lack of any actual, true _soul_ within Jonathan, for whatever reason, he cared _intensely_ about these humans. Humans he would do anything to ensure the safety of.

And that was the last thought he had that night as he fell asleep on the couch with an already sleeping Squirrel snuggled up into his side with the boy’s head on his shoulder, his knife dropped off his fingers and onto the floor.

When Ryan got home to see such a sight as old movies played from the TV, all the father could do was smile as he draped a blanket over Jon and Joe, a soft kiss to his son’s forehead before he was retiring to his own room as he felt… Strangely thankful the strange demonic… Friend of his ended up living under the same roof as them.


	18. Amhrán na farraige (Song Of The Sea)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this is just song of the sea but with Brian as Saoirse, Jack and Brock as the dad and mom and David as her brother Ben

_Hush now, my_ _storeen_

David could remember their mother, Brooke, a woman always smiling so sweetly and telling him bedtime stories in a voice so soft. _Come away, oh, human child, to the waters and the wild with a fairy hand-in-hand, for the world’s more full of weeping than you can understand._

He could remember the Gaelic song she would sing oh so softly to him as they painted his unborn brother’s bedroom, seals swimming in the sea, a great mountain with a tale of the old gods attached to it. His father, Jack, stepping into the room with a smile as he told him it was bedtime and himself hopping on his heels, _dad, look at the selkie! Look!_

One thing he sometimes forgot about was his mother taking out an ancient shell, holes along it. She played a soft song he recognized even as he grew. _Mom… **Yes?** I can’t wait for the baby to come.. We’re going to be best friends, aren’t we? **Of course you are. You’re going to be the best big brother in the world**_.

Yet when the time came, they were the furthest from best friends. He wouldn’t even consider his little brother a _friend_ , let alone a _brother_. Perhaps he was harder on him than he should have been, holding onto a grudge – an incident that was _never_ Brian’s fault to begin with. But the boy didn’t know that. He was mute, brought into the world with only their father Jack and their dog Joe as their friend.

He was _lonely_. Drawn to the sea just as their mother was. David was scared of the sea, and hated being anywhere  near it. So imagine how angry and terrified he was when Joe went running into the water to bring Brian back before he could stray too far into the sea he was oh so drawn to. Angier that Jack wasn’t listening. Could barely focus, and instead of scolding Brian for scaring his brother so badly, he picked the six year old up with a smile, _ah, here’s the birthday boy!_

It was less than pleasant when their grandfather Craig showed up, once again grilling Jack about how bad it was for them to live in a lighthouse together. David was so frustrated, so _bitter_ , even more furious when Brian, after being all dressed up by their grandfather, was holding the shell Brooke had given him. _No, mom gave it to **me** , not you! Dad, he’s stealing again! He’s nothing but a dirty stealer!_

Jack had only sighed deeply and led them out of the room due to Craig calling for them. Brian subtly tossed the questionable cupcake Craig had made to Joe, and a look of absolute delight crossed the boy’s face as Jack set a cake down in front of them with a smile as their grandpa started the camera timer. **_I want to capture the emotions of the day! One big happy family! Smile on the count of three! Ready? One, two… Three!_**

All the camera captured was David with a perhaps rather mean spirited grin, Brian with a confused look and a face covered in cake – even Jack and the _dog_ looked confused at the turn of events. Brian didn’t seem to mind at all, smiling delightfully with his own tongue out as Joe licked frosting off his cheek and David was yelled at for his actions, hiding away with the dog.

The one thing truly bringing them all down was the anniversary of Brooke’s supposed death, taken too early by the sea.

 _What do you want?_ David had asked as Brian stepped into the fort he’d made where he’d been hiding away with Joe. The boy held up a storybook _, you want a story?_ And David pretended to think about it. He didn’t tell him a kind story. He told him a scary story about a mean, evil owl that turned her own giant son to stone, taking away all the feelings of her son and the fairies and elves to turn them to stone as well.

He only felt a _little_ bad about it.

Okay, a lot bad.

David only truly felt bad about his past actions that fateful day, when Brian almost died.

Taken away with him to the land, left missing their father incredibly and wondering about a mother he never had gotten to meet. A little brother David promised to be the best brother and friend of, only to change his mind so quickly the night she was taken.

Who knew all those stories had actually been real?

Fireflies and the pull of seals and salty air always tried to lead Brian back to where he belonged, but the world around him kept pulling him back to his family, only ever scolding him and demanding he stay there, he listen to them, stop the pull to the ocean, to live the life of a selkie like he was always meant to. But keeping him away, that was what was truly harming him.

One day, Brian would have to make a big decision. To stay, or to go.

When that night came and the selkie boy would have to make his decision, when they finally figured out where Brian well and truly needed to be, David finally got to hear his baby brother’s voice. The storm rocked the boat madly after his fight with their father Jack, demanding to know what he did with his coat. It was in the ocean, _and I should have done it years ago!_

God, he needed to face his fear of the sea. Brian, hair white, pale and shaking in the boat the sea furiously rocked needed, needed _more_ than a doctor to tell him he was beyond saving. So instead of accepting what fate had in store for Brian, David dove into the sea and found the coat with the help of the seals around him. Jack held them, fearing their time as a family was up, fearing the loss they were about to suffer when a voice broke the silence only interrupted by David’s coughing and the furious sea, _David…?_ Wide eyes turned to see Brian, looking so, so tired but smiling so, so weakly at his brother.

_She’s a selkie like mom, isn’t she? **Yeah…**_

They got to see him change before their very eyes, glowing and white and so magical.

They were brought to the mountain _Mac Lir_ where they heard Brian whisper again, _David?_

Panic filled both of them as the boy’s eyes closed and Jack worried, but David knew what to do. He pressed warm hands to cold cheeks, _he has to sing. Try and copy me, Brian, okay?_ _Idir_ _ann is_ _idir as…_ _Idir_ _thuaidh is_ _idir_ _theas… Try it, Brian…_

**_Idir an is_ ** **_idir as…_ ** **_Idir_ ** **_thuaidh is_ ** **_idir_ ** **_theas…_ **

He had a pretty voice, but it held no candle to the little lightshow they got to witness. The glow, the wind pushing at their hair and clothes as the song _Amhr_ _á_ _n_ _na_ _farraige_ came so _easily_ to him. Floating up in the sky, the soft coat of the selkie billowing gently around him as his blue eyes drifted shut, the song guiding – reviving spirits long forgotten under the rage of _Macha._

**_Between the here, between the now… Between the north, between the south…_ **

Even the very spirit of _Mac Lir_ was freed from what he’d gone through and he could finally leave the island he’d been trapped to for so, so long. Jack and David were in absolute _awe_ as Brian landed so gently in front of them, a silence following the ending of the song before a splash caught David’s attention and in turn, he got Jack’s, alerting him to the white seal sitting in front of them atop the rock they stood upon.

The real emotion they’d never forget is when that seal changed back – and standing there was the children’s mother, Brooke, humming the song of the selkie softly. _Mom! Mom, please, wait! Please don’t… Please don’t take him from us…_

He could see the tears falling as Brooke’s eyes opened at last, as did Brian’s and both pairs went to Jack and David. _Please, mom… **He’s all we have.**_

Tears she never wanted to see falling from David’s eyes as she crouched down, worried them she would simply take her son away and they would never see Brian again. But instead, instead of a selfish action or any argument that Brian simply _had_ to go with them, her hands rested on Brian’s arms as she asked him what _he_ wanted. What did _he_ want to do? **_All of my kind must leave tonight… But Brian, you’re part human… If I take his coat, our worlds will be untangled…_**

Brian’s voice, so, so soft as he reached a little hand out that Brooke gently curled her fingers around, a little smile on her face. **_And she can stay with you._** _Mom, I want to stay…_ Brian had whispered, took off his own coat, allowing him to embrace the human side and be rid of the selkie drawing him out to see so often.

This time, they were allowed the goodbyes they never had before – the closure they so needed. A soft kiss was pressed to Brian’s cheek, Jack’s lips. A final goodbye as she crouched down in front of David. _Can’t you stay too, mom? Please? **My son… Remember me in your stories and in your songs… Know that I will always love you… Always…**_ A kiss to his forehead and just like that, she was gone, never to be seen again by the little family.

But Brian got to stay. Brian was all that remained of her, a voice he never had before seeming to brighten the world around them, a story and a song in his heart to match the big smile almost always on his face. And David was sorry that he was ever like that, that he’d ever let his brother be lonely in the slightest bit.

He was never going to be lonely again.


	19. You & I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I know that- that Squirrel ain’t my brother, b-but- but I’m glad he’s my- my- my brother.”

Jon and Squirrel had gotten along from the get-go despite how quiet they could be.

 

Ryan and Luke brought their new adoptive son home at last, greeting Jon’s babysitter Mark, who said hello to Squirrel softly, welcomed him to the family with a gentle hug and hung around to get to know the boy. They all spent time with Squirrel, but Jon stayed silent most of the time they hung out.

 

Eventually, the two boys were left alone. They stared at each other in silence for a few minutes and despite worrying if Luke’s baby brother and their son would get along, they trusted them to be good and get along while they fixed lunch for the boys.

 

When they walked back into the room, they saw Jon and Squirrel quietly playing with dolls and figurines together, quietly talking to each other. When they went to bed, sharing a room, they stepped in to see Jon having a bit of trouble reading a short story to himself before bed, and before Luke or Ryan could react, Squirrel was crawling off his own bed, climbing up into Jon’s and taking the book from his hands, beginning to read it aloud to his sort-of-brother for him. Jon fell asleep cuddled up to Squirrel, so the boys shared his bed that night.

 

Squirrel did this every time he saw Jon struggling to read. Even if he just saw something on TV or something and tried to read it aloud, Squirrel would step over, read it over himself, and then read it a second time out loud for Jon. Any worries the new dads had of the two getting along went out the window.

 

When they saw the two playing with the dolls and figurines outside, they could hear Jon softly say to Squirrel with a smile that they should, “get- get- get rich and- and give everyone nice sweaters, ‘n teach them how to dance.” to which Squirrel started giggling and grinned at his sort-of-brother and responded, “an’ build our own house on a mountain so everyone looks like ants!”

 

As they grew, they were a level of inseparable - nothing like Jonathan and Evan when they met at school, but when Squirrel called, Jon would always come running and even as they grew into teenagers side by side, if he stuttered and had a hard time reading something, Squirrel would always take it from his hands and read whatever it was for him so he didn’t have to struggle and fumble over his words, especially after they found out about his dyslexia.

 

They learned together, played together, laughed together and grew up together. One day, sat on the porch as Ryan played games with his son in the yard, Jon looked over to his brother who sat beside him, nursing his cup of coffee. Luke only looked away from them when he felt a soft touch to his leg and he looked down to see Jon resting his head against his thigh, looking sleepy.

 

He ruffled Jon’s hair and kept his fingers running through, smiling softly as his brother murmured against him, “I know that- that Squirrel ain’t my brother, b-but- but I’m glad he’s my- my- my brother.”


	20. Black and Blue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's more to it than just black and blue.

Black  and  blue .

 

That’s what color the world around him was. That’s what color his friends and family were. That’s what color  _ he  _ was.

 

Black  and  blue.

 

Blue .  Forget-me-knots, fairy lights, hydrangeas, the sky on a sunny day, the nail polish he used, the deep blue sea he always associated himself with. Crayons, blueberries, birds and Neptune. 

 

Black,  like the lonely nights, crows that land in the yard or on power lines, the licorice most people couldn’t stand. Gems and charcoal and space itself where the stars and planets lie.

  
  


Black  and  blue .

 

Like the neon signs he drove and walked past each night he couldn’t fall asleep. Like the galaxies he could see on clear nights when the lights were out. Like the bruises along his knees, or his knuckles and his eyes when he’d gotten in a fight.

 

Such as the bruise on his thigh he drew a hoop over and stars around. The galaxy of black, blue, purple and yellow marring his thigh.

 

Little things added a drop more color to the dreary world he lived in, however. Things normal to everyone else, yet still surprising to him.

 

Like waking up on the couch of his best friend’s boyfriend’s home. Upon assurance he wouldn’t be exposed, that it was just  _ Ohm’s _ home they were going to, Jonathan reluctantly agreed. It still didn’t feel real being there until he properly woke up, bleary eyed and still tired on Ryan’s couch with the man at the very end of the couch by his feet, leaning over to use his laptop on his coffee table.

 

He stared at Ryan for a long time in silence, likely looking about as much a disaster as he felt. Everything was dull and gray and tired, his hair was an utter bedhead mess, blue eyes narrowed as he stared at his friend. He didn’t remember falling asleep on the couch, but he could smell coffee and breakfast being made likely by his brother and Ryan was there with a calm, neutral look as he scrolled on his laptop.

 

Eventually, the staring drew his attention and hazel eyes met his own widening ones. Jon’s mouth opened slightly, disgruntled and trying to think of something to say, but then Ryan just laughed and patted his ankle. “Toonzy almost has breakfast ready. I’ll bet you’re hungry, right?” His stomach growled at the mention, and he couldn’t help smiling a little as Ryan let out a startled laugh.

 

It felt like something changed in his vision, added a splash of something so faint yet so vivid all the same that had Jonathan sitting up quick, noting the more startled yet amused look on Ryan’s face. “Did you see that?” He asked and his friend, so confused, glanced toward the nearest window to his other side, and then back at Jonathan with furrowed brows. “See what?”

 

Silence, and then Jon shook his head and adjusted on the couch. After some shifting and moving around, he had his head in a still confused Ryan’s lap, eyes sliding shut as he said, “No- nothin’.”

 

He fell back asleep to gentle fingers running through his dark hair and a train wreck of thoughts about that splash of color he couldn’t pinpoint.

 

The next time it happened, he once again was on the couch with his head in Ryan’s lap. Luke was on his other side, and the two were chatting away as Jon watched videos sideways on Ohm’s laptop while he dozed on his lap.

 

His stomach ruined the moment, twisting uncomfortably. A cold chill ran through him, bringing goosebumps in their wake as he curled up tighter in the blanket. It wasn’t helping, and soon, he was pushing the blanket off, letting it hit the floor with a soft thump. It drew the gazes of Luke and Ryan, but they didn’t comment.

 

At least, not until his squirming became too much and Jon got to his feet with quick, shaky movements, darting off to the bathroom. The door slammed behind him (he made a note to apologize to Ryan later for that) as he hit his knees in front of the toilet.

 

The door opened again a minute later and Jon looked up, sweaty and exhausted already to see his brother and Ryan. While Luke stepped inside, Ryan stayed in the doorway, watching. Another little flicker of light made the world brighter, more vivid as a cool hand pressed to his forehead and he remembered being in that position so many times before in the past as he mumbled assurance that he was okay, he just felt a little nauseous. He wasn’t sick.

 

_ “I’m not sick,” Jonathan would groan even as he swayed into Luke’s hand. The taller man’s lips pressed into a thin line as he felt Delirious’s burning forehead, noted how hot he was yet how he shook and shivered. How he had just been throwing up. And instead of buying it, he lifted Jon up into his arms, ignoring the startled shriek as he carried his brother back into his room, tucked him in proper. “You stay there, I’ll make you some soup and get you some meds.” _

 

“You stay there, I’ll make you some soup and get you some meds.” Luke said as he tucked Jon into the bed in the guestroom and left to do just that. Ryan took a seat on the edge of the bed to keep an eye on him, watching as Jon groaned and buried his face into the pillow. Taking the hint, Ryan got up and flicked the light off before he sat down again, smiling a little at the muffled ‘thank you’. “We’ll take care of you, Delirious, don’t worry.”

 

The knock at the door the next day added yet another spark to an increasingly colorful world around him. The dreary, tiresome black and blue was fading away, making room for new colors as Mark walked into the guest room and crouched down beside the bed. His eyes fluttered a little until they half-opened, exhausted blue finding Mark’s warm brown and he couldn’t muster much of a surprised reaction, figured Luke likely informed him and he dropped by to check on the younger man himself.

 

His eyes closed again as the cool hand pressed to his forehead, and he chatted with Gorilla softly for a while until he decided it was time to go and let him rest. “You get better soon, Squirrel and your buddies are gettin’ real worried about you and this fever of yours.” Mark told him, and the worry and thought of digging out his phone or laptop to check online was nothing more than a fleeting thought, replaced with affection toward his friends and knowledge that he needed to rest to actually get better.

 

He still held Mark’s hand against his chest, words slurred and mumbled until they faded out and he fell asleep once more.

 

When his head stopped pounding and his skin didn’t feel so clammy and burning hot, he requested Luke dig out his laptop for him, which he agreed to as long as Jon wouldn’t leave the bed, which he gratefully agreed to.

 

He had so many messages from the past couple days from friends wondering where he went, why he’d been off for so long, what happened, and most often, was he okay.

 

He clicked Squirrel’s first. The amount of messages from him were on par with how many he had from Evan. He got an all caps message of his own name, and he could feel the delight from it when he messaged Squirrel a simple _ hi im not dead _ . He couldn’t help giggling a little at the screen, seeing Luke smile out of the corner of his eyes where his brother laid beside him playing with his own phone.

 

He talked with Squirrel a bit, barely noticing the dreary, dark colors fading from his vision anymore. It was becoming a regular thing now. He’d mentioned it to Luke, and while confused, Luke simply voiced gratefulness that they could chase away anything dark and lonely and replace it with something warmer. He made plans to game with Squirrel later in the week if he felt better, and at last, he clicked Evan’s messages.

 

It wasn’t so much  _ how are you are you okay i’m worried  _ as it was  _ I hope you’re doing okay man, hit me up when you are! _ and little updates throughout the past couple days of stupid things their friends did or audio and video clips from recordings he’d done that he thought Jon would find funny (he always delighted in making their mutual friends scream from rage) but the last message was sent last night, an audio clip titled  _ Feel better, Delirious _ !

 

He clicked it, and as Luke looked up at the sound, Jon almost cried. It was only a minute or so long, their friends all on one recording, each wishing him well as they’d heard from Luke what happened and reminders of their affection toward him, that he had a place set in future recordings in games they  _ knew _ he loved playing, or maps they would absolutely hate  _ just  _ because Jonathan favored horror scenarios and puzzles.

 

The final biggest shock of vivid colors and the faltering of the lonely blacks and blues he surrounded himself in was when the group was having a meetup - something private, just for the friends to hang out together, and Luke had been given an invitation, same with Ryan and Squirrel. Delirious had been too, but as he usually refused for obvious reasons but thanked them for the invite, no one bothered him about it. But he asked Luke to take him regardless. He needed to see them, he didn’t want to be alone for that long.

 

After an hour of agreeing he’d be okay, if he needed Luke, he’d tell him, so on so forth, Luke finally conceded and told him he’d drive him and Ryan. 

 

When the day came to go, they agreed to not tell anyone - Ryan and Squirrel didn’t count. Jon looked right at Luke from the passenger side, Ryan between them, as he said, “I don’t- I- I don’t wanna tell em ye- yet.” And look glanced at him, nodded his understanding.

 

He ignored the look Jon shot him when the door opened to reveal their friends and Luke introduced him as a friend and fan named  _ Dennis _ . Jon was given some weird looks, particularly because of his VanossGaming t-shirt, the Smii7y glasses atop his head and the Kryoz art phone case he had. Sue him, he loves supporting people he loves.

 

Jon didn’t talk much to them (he had a rough time surrounded by people, it got overwhelming even if it  _ was _ people he knew and loved), but he did offer the occasional soft comment or listen to them ramble away or comment on his merch with delight and gratefulness for his support to them; Jaren had turned to John and demanded he make merch because Jaren wants to own Kryoz merch. John, without missing a beat as he hit his vape, had said, “Same,” which sent Jon into a giggle fit, silencing them - and all their friends around them. 

 

He didn’t notice at first, giggling away about the goofiness of his two friends before he noticed the staring and quieted down. “Dennis, huh?” Tyler asked, to which Jon started laughing once again and wrapped his arms around Squirrel who threw his arms around Jon and grinned at them, telling them how it was his middle name. Luke was given stares he shrugged off, and Jon managed to separate from the group for a bit, spending time with all of them separately.

 

Everything was so bright and vivid, beautiful colors he never noticed before as he sat on Tyler’s back porch on the ground with a few others. Certain colors seemed to follow some of them around, and the glint of gold was what alerted him to Evan’s appearance beside him.

 

The two locked eyes and just stared for a moment before Evan smiled and leaned his head on Jon’s shoulder, eyes closing as his best friend stated how glad he was to actually meet Jon properly, to match his pretty face with the goofy, contagious laughter. He looked up and Jon offered a little toothy grin, ruffling Evan’s hair for a moment before hugging him close. They were soon joined by John and Jaren, John on Jon’s side and Jaren on Evan’s, not minding the closeness of the two between them as they chatted away.

 

Evan surprised Jon by being the first between them to fall asleep, head resting against his collarbone. The weight got heavier on Delirious’s side and he looked over to see the owl asleep against him, so he wrapped an arm around him, kept him steady and went back to the conversation.

 

Later on, they were alone and Luke took a seat at Jon’s side, almost entirely behind him and let Jon rest against him as he held Evan. “So, get what you wanted, Delirious?” Luke asked, running his fingers through Jon’s hair and watching the younger man melt from it as he nodded, hummed an agreement. “Yeah… Yeah, I- I’m- I’m real glad I got to- to meet them all… ‘Specially Smii7y, Kryoz and Ev…” He murmured, resting his cheek on top of Evan’s hair. He missed Evan waking up, and he missed that peaceful, sweet smile on his best friend’s lips as Jonathan’s eyes closed too, intent to sleep on Luke as long as he’d let him.

 

There was more to it all than  black  and  blue .


	21. All Better (Glass Hearts AU)

Glass hearts are fragile things, connected to your very being. Some go their whole lives without one, resulting in being barely more than a numb husk drifting through life, and some have theirs given to them on the day they're born.

When you get a crack or a paper cut or shatter your heart at all, most go to the glass shops and have their heart fixed, give it some TLC so maybe it won't break as quickly next time. Some people never get theirs fixed, living their lives with their guard up to defend something cracked and chipped.

Evan was one of them - he had a couple cracks in his own heart, shaped like a cat face because his parents thought it'd be a good idea to let him make his own heart on his fifth birthday. It had been a wonderful day.

And now, like many others, he had cracks and chips from the heartbreaks and hardships of life. He never showed anyone his heart unless they were an incredibly close friend he knew he could trust (Brock. Anthony. Jaren. Tyler).

Deciding to trade his heart was a big move for him, trading before they even called themselves official. Well, they weren't trading, he was giving it to him; a heavy sign of trust on his part.

His hands shook a little as they met up at the park, his voice cracked a few times as he spoke with his date, his face flushed pink at teases and compliments alike and his heart pounded hard in his chest.

When the date was coming to a close, Evan gave him that little box - a simple black box tied with a blue ribbon to match his eyes. God, the way his pretty eyes widened when he opened the box. Silence followed, one shocked beyond belief and one _nervous_ beyond belief, fighting the urge to turn and bolt, to leave it there and trust him not to shatter it in his absence.

Instead, just as he truly considered running, "T'ank ye..."

What?

His own eyes widened, staring as the other gently took the heart out of the box, a faint smile on his lips as he examined the color, the shape, the cracks Evan very well thought would have him turning away, not rubbing his thumbs lovingly over them. "Come wit' me."

He brought them to a glass shop and Evan's heart jumped into his throat because what were they doing there? They stood outside and Brian softly told him, "If ye want a more permanent fix, I'll help you. I think mine could use it too." And there, placed in his own hands - a glass heart with a splash of turquoise blue in the middle. And shaped like a dogs face. Brian only smiled as Evan started laughing breathlessly because of course they'd both make their hearts look like cute little animals.

The nervousness melted away with his laughter, and he fixed the cracks and chips in both alongside Brian that night.

They went to Brian's hotel room after, hearts on nightstands and fingers entwined as they simply looked at each other, enjoying silent company. As Evan started to doze off, he curled closer, wrapping his arms around him as he mumbled a little, "I love you."

Brian could feel the smile against his collarbone as he whispered the affections right back.


	22. Shorts (Glass Hearts AU)

"Team Red!" Brian shouted before they even began the game and _still_ managed to surprise his friends into brief silence. Well, except Evan, who started giggling like mad. "Aren't you always team Blue?" Anthony asked, grinning a bit as Evan leaned away from his mic, giggling like a loon.

"Team _Red_." Brian instead repeated, causing Evan to wheeze again for a moment before the Canadian gasped out a loud, "Team Blue!" "Did you two switch? What the fuck is going on?" Tyler asked, confusion in his voice. Confused, until Jonathan started cackling along with them and Brock even giggled a little.

"Congratulations on the switch - I'm proud of you both, now can we please get to the game?"

* * *

 

"I trust you, Mark," Brock had whispered, curled up against his boyfriend with a tired smile as they watched movies together for a late date night. "You've seen my worst parts and made everything better - you saw my heart and accepted me for who I am, even going as far as to fix it..." his voice choked up a little, but he refused to stop. He couldn't stop now. Mark was watching him, all warm eyes and sweet smiles.

"And... And you've done so much for me... You've been there for me when no one else was, you listened when no one else would and I- I love you... So much. I love you." Brock had sat up out of his arms by now, taking Mark's hands and holding them tight. He could feel his heart beat fast in his chest, in his pocket. "And I really want to wake up to you forever, Mark... I want to cook with you, play games with you, and altogether live with you."

He pulled the ring out of his pocket, a simple gold band with his own heart sized down to be the rose pink gem that completed it.

"Shit." Mark said, and Brock's heart dropped because oh god, what kind of response was that? Did he really not want a life with him? Was he going to break up with him?

His thoughts ran wild until he reached into his own pocket, pulled out a ring much the same, the heart gem a light blue that Brock recognized as Mark's. "Man, I was gonna do the same thing when the movie was over and you beat me to the punch."

Brock just had to kiss him senseless for a minute before asking as they smiled against each other, eyes locked, "is that a yes?"

"Kiss me again and I'll tell you."

* * *

"Are you awake, Toonzy?" The words startled him out of his half asleep daze, tired eyes flicking up to see Ryan's icon on Discord, lit up green as his boyfriend spoke softly to him. A yawn was pulled from Luke in response, and he smiled faintly to hear Ryan's soft giggles over the sound. "Go to sleep. You gotta be well rested for your birthday tomorrow."

Luke groaned softly, a protest on the tip of his tongue until Ryan spoke before him, "Come on, now, Toonzy. I sent you a package a couple days ago - it should be there by tomorrow. You gotta sleep though so you can wake up and sign for your package, okay?" Now that was some real temptation. Stay awake talking to his boyfriend, or go to sleep and sign for a special birthday gift from him? "Okay." Luke relented, still hesitant to leave. They sat in silence for a minute before Ryan quietly reminded him he needed to go sleep and Luke sighed softly. "Okay, okay..." "Goodnight, Toonzy. I love you,, and sweet dreams."

Luke still whined softly about having to leave, but he responded, "Night, Ry. I love you too, go cuddle your dog and get some sleep too." With a little laugh, they both disconnected and went to bed, Luke laying down with his cats and Ryan curling up with Tiny.

When Luke signed for and opened his package from Ryan in front of Jonathan the next day, he denied how it went down to Ryan, flustered, but Jonathan was quick to expose the fact he'd started crying over the box almost immediately. Ryan just laughed and wished him a happy birthday. He cried too when he received a package a week later, opening the box to find a simple glass heart with all kinds of colors swirling in it - particularly red and blue.

* * *

 

Ryan was delighted to have Luke's heart so close to him, set on a pillow on his nightstand so he could see it every morning and every night.

The real surprise came from a sudden Skype call from Jonathan. "Hey, Delirious! How are you?" Ryan asked, a smile on his face. "Hi, Ohm. Just came to say congratulations on your future marriage to my brother and best friend."

"Oh, thank you-.. Wait, what? but- I haven't even proposed yet-?"

"I'm giving you your wedding gift now; my mercy."

Silence. Jon broke it with a soft snort and Ryan let out a little, nervous laugh, confused and unsure even as they moved to Discord to start up a scheduled gaming session.

When Ryan told Luke later, he just sighed, offering no reassurance that Jonathan was joking. Oh god.

 


	23. Sapphire Stones

_ I’ve got miles of regrets and confusing friends, but perhaps it’s just my stupid head in the end _

 

Sometimes his brain wouldn’t be quiet. sometimes, his thoughts would run unhindered, thoughts flitting between existential wonder and ‘do my friends actually like me’. sometimes, he couldn’t get straight answers for his questions, and it only frustrated him more. but most of the time, when his thoughts ran wild and he was left stewing in a hopeless feeling he wasn’t sure how to resolve, _he_ would come along, and suddenly the world wasn’t quite so lonely and dark with beautiful hazel eyes watching him and callous free warm hands holding his own tight. 

 

_ Meteor shower, quick take cover - but the hues in our hair compliment one another _

 

he’d received plenty of teasing for the dyed red hair, but none of it really made as much a difference as when _he_ told him how cool he looked with it, assured him he’d be cool no matter what hair color he chose. his heart thumped in his chest, that pink tint taking over his cheeks as he told him just how pretty his hair was when he’d let the color fade and gotten it back to its original color.

 

_ I’d sell my own bones for sapphire stones, ‘cause blue’s your favorite color _

 

_He_  says it’s because of him late one night, and they’re all confused, all three giving their fourth a curious look and waiting for him to continue and explain, and he did. he locked eyes with him, a pretty smile on soft lips and hazel eyes shining in the dark as he explains that the color is his favorite because of him. because he can see something else when he looks at the sky or the sea or even just see something as simple as blueberries when he’s out, he’ll think of him, because blue’s his color.

 

brian’s cheeks only got more and more red as brock explained to him, jack and mark the reason why he favors the color as the sun fell and the room was darkened. it made all their nights to see brian’s early birthday gift to brock pulled from the nightstand; a simple silver chain with a just as simple sapphire gem hanging from it. it wasn’t the most remarkable thing ever, it wasn’t the shiniest or the prettiest, but it was to brock, and that was what mattered as brian hooked it around him, paused with his fingers brushing the soft skin of his neck. “are you okay, bri?” brock had asked.

 

those gorgeous ocean blue eyes he loves oh so much met his, silence for a moment before brock was given a soft kiss, brian’s words whispered against him as jack and mark wrapped their arms around them, smiles on both their faces. “ _ my heart and the earth share the same rule; it starts with love and it ends with you, but don’t go outside - it’s dangerous tonight without me right here by your side. _ ”


	24. Birds

_ i just wanna watch the birds up there, track the migratory patterns that they’ve flown. _

 

john had been brushing off all efforts to pull him into recordings or drag him out of his house for the past couple of days.

he didn’t want to record, he didn’t want to play games, he didn’t want to _talk_  with other human beings. it was exhausting in a way he couldn’t begin to describe, so he just… didn’t.

 

_ i wanna watch them from my chair with my binoculars, my latte and my phone. _

 

he didn’t really think about how much he’d worry his boyfriends when he stayed offline for one day, two days, and then three days of contemplative silence until there was a knock at his door right as he was about to go out. john paused, considered, and then opened the door to the worried faces of jonathan and jaren.

there was silence for a minute before he let them in, letting the silence suffocate for a hot minute as he got himself together enough to say aloud, “people are overwhelming.” and just like that, they understood. they all have bad days every once in a while. it just happened that john had been offline trying to _fix_  his bad days.

 

_i wanna watch from somewhere undisturbing, quiet, calm, still._

 

so he ended up sitting at a table at the park with the two of them on either side of him, each of their hands intertwined as he ignored his coffee on the table in favor of staring up at the birds he could see flitting about from branch to branch. it was soothing.

what was more soothing was the gentle squeezes to his hands. the occasional huff from jon as he breathed the fresh air in deep before he settled for resting his head on john’s shoulder. jaren stealing john’s coffee once in a while to take a sip, making a face when the latte had cooled and refusing to back down under the barely-there smirk on john’s lips.

later, jaren asked john why as they curled up in bed, john still stuck between them and jon dead asleep rather quickly with his head on john’s shoulder. “why did you wanna go to the park? or not talk to us?” and john gathered his thoughts for a moment as jaren pressed a kiss to his cheek. “i don’t wanna fly in the sky - i just wanted to be alone.” pause. “it’s not a big deal or anything.”

and jaren nodded, because no, it wasn’t a big deal. if john wanted quiet time, he’d get quiet time. before he could really say anything else, he noticed john’s breathing even out against his shirt and he was out just like jon. and instead of worrying about him, he smiled.


	26. Saint Bernard (Who Killed Markiplier AU)

_ Hung pictures of patron saints up on my wall to remind me that I am a fool _

 

His grip tightened on his cane as the memories threatened to drown the voices in his head. The picture frame sat innocuously on the table, a memory of them as kids. Of Luke, Jonathan, Brock and Ryan side by side, laughing, smiling as messy little boys that wanted nothing more than to run outside in a storm and feel the rain on their faces as they yelled and laughed and started mud fights or danced to songs they would only hear in their heads or words falling from their lips damn near drowned out by the rain pouring down buckets around them.

 

_ Tell me where I came from, what I will always be; just a spoiled little kid who went to catholic school _

 

Jonathan had always strived for the greater good. He ran for the election after years of schooling and practicing so that he could put in motion the changes he’d had in his head for so many years, the thoughts of  _ that’s not quite right. schools should be safer, food and shelter is a right and we need to fix this  _ finally coming out in a way that made sense. He put his all into it, and he’d been so delighted when he’d won. He’d looked at Luke, eyes sparkling as they made celebratory plans, fingers clutching his old cane tight in his hands as he beamed.

Happy, excited, oblivious to the dark future awaiting them all as he wrapped his arms around his brother and Brock’s necks, following after Ryan as they discussed where he’d go from there.

 

_ When I am dead, I won’t join their ranks, because they are both holy and free _

 

Brian could hear the shouting in his head, voices so different until their words or sentences matched up perfectly and he couldn’t quite tell whose voice was whose anymore. Luke, angry, screaming away in his head of the revenge he desired, the venom dripping acidic green from his tongue as he longed to wring Ryan’s neck, to wrap his fingers around his neck and choke his life out for what he did to them, what he did to Jon.

And Jon, for his part, simply screamed. He screamed and screamed and screamed, stuttered words once in awhile becoming a straight sentence he almost choked on as he cried out for some semblance of their old lives, a wild desire to play games with Brock and watch movies with Evan and maybe even admit things he never admitted before but now he’d never get that chance, would he?

The screaming from both parties quieted down as Jonathan sobbed his heart out within his head as his brother’s arms wrapped around him, nothing surrounding them but a chilling darkness as they prayed it was nothing more than a bad dream. Brian almost didn’t notice the tears rolling down his own cheeks as he heard the echoing shouts of Brock, trying to find his friends, somehow still thinking they were still around after what had transpired.

 

_ I’m in Ohio, satanic and chained up and until the end, that’s how it’ll be _

 

Brock. Dear, sweet Brock. Jonathan’s best friend to the end, Luke’s brief fling, the boys’ collective motherly best friend since the day they’d met. The thought almost had Jonathan screaming again, and the separate part of Brian’s mind thanked the heavens he didn’t - his head was starting to pound. Footsteps thumping downstairs as Brock came back down and Brian’s heart sunk down to his stomach to see that wild-eyed stare, the weak smile on his (former?) friend’s lips as he went to search the rest of the house.

 

_ I said; make me love myself so that I might love you. _

 

Brian’s head slowly turned to the side to see that reflection of himself. Switching back and forth, shifting, changing ever so slightly until it landed on a middle ground - on Brian, with his dark side-swept hair, his bright blue eyes and the scowl on his lips. The tears rolling down his pale, freckled cheeks.

 

_ Don’t make me a liar cause I swear to god _

 

A scream of his own tore from his throat, weak and raspy as the cane in his hands shattered the glass in an instant, the sudden sound filling the empty room, deafening him for a moment as the glass flung every which way, landing on him, around his feet and on the table below it. He stared at the empty space where the mirror once was, silent.

 

_ When I said it I thought it was true _ .

 

Brock’s footsteps rushing back into the room, freezing in the doorway as he stared at the scene laid out before him, the glass scattered on the ground and the table, Brian’s arm out holding the cane against what once was a gorgeous mirror, bright blue eyes staring at the wreckage. Brock stepped forward and those blue eyes snapped to him.

 

“ _ Saint Calvin told me not to worry about you, but he’s got his own things to deal with _ .”

 

Brock’s eyebrows went up, his eyes wide and Brian could see the effort in fighting off tears as he stared at what once was his friends. Perhaps he could see the strange shifting as they tried to settle on the new form together. The memories brought him back to the bullet he put in Evan’s gut and Anthony’s chest in a panicked rage when all he wanted was his friends back. Ryan’s voice whispered bitterly in the back of his mind, filling him with all the rage he could hold and instead of lashing out, of picking a fight he wasn’t sure he’d win, the cane hit the ground with almost enough force to break it.

A sick grin pulled at his lips as he stared at the frightened Brock.

 

“ _ There’s really just one thing that we have in common.  _ **_Neither of us will be missed_ ** .”

 

Brock looked so, so shaken. He could hear Luke’s words of frustration, a mix between regret, anger and frustration melting into one and Jon’s heart bleeding out through his pleas to  _ please god don’t lay a finger on him please he did wrong but he’s a good man _  as the entity approached, so Brian didn’t lay a finger on him as Brock’s gaze dropped to his feet. It was a wonder he kept it together **_t_** ** _his_** long, Brian thought to himself as he saw the tears drip down onto the wood floor.

 

“ _ A saint Bernard sits at the top of the driveway… You always said how you loved dogs. _ ”

 

When did Brian’s voice drop whatever accent it had? When did he start sounding like Jonathan, the one who loved dogs as much as he? Luke had always been more of a cat person, but Jon, he was soft, and he wanted to go home, curl up and snuggle with his dog Teddy one last time. Brian made a mental note to stop by and at the very least ensure the dog was taken care of.

Brock’s wide, pained eyes shot up to meet his, and Brian had to fight to not look away even as more of those cursed tears dripped down his cheeks, had to fight to not flinch when the soft pad of Brock’s thumb reached up to wipe it away as his voice softened.

 

“ _ I don’t know if I count but I’m trying my best when I’m howling and barking these songs _ . ”


	27. Read My Mind

They’d been planning this for a while. A break, a getaway from what they did for a living and the people they had to entertain, time to not think about anyone they had to entertain or things they had to do. A week somewhere else to get themselves some  _ much _  needed breathing room.

As he packed his things, he could remember a situation akin to that, years ago. Young, broke, tired adults Tyler and Evan, piling what money they had to take a trip. As it was a sort of road trip from Indiana to Utah to see their friend, it wouldn’t be fair to say it was nothing special or that it wasn’t a sort of vacation. Even if they worked while they were there, Evan would still consider it to be a sort of vacation.

 

_ We both want the same things darling, yeah _

 

Evan had smiled wide at his boyfriend, two young disasters with messy hair, crumpled clothes, two suitcases and a truck. Tyler had sighed deep as he finished packing, standing to wind his arms around Evan, rest his chin on his shoulder as he questioned if this was  **_truly_ **   the right action to take. “ _ Young and broke but it don’t matter - no _ .” Evan hummed, hands resting over his. He winked at Tyler as he pulled away, pressed a quick feather-light kiss to his cheek. “ _ Driving away - come on, pack all your belongings! _ ”

Another pause before a curious look overtook Evan’s expression, glancing over to his ringing phone to see that friend’s picture pop up on his screen - Brock, smiling away at the camera, wrapped in Mark’s arms. His gaze met Tyler’s as he went to answer the call. “ _ We can start a whole new chapter now _ .”

 

Arms sliding around his waist surprised him from his daydreaming, and he looked up to see Tyler - tall as ever, his hair getting a bit long and god, he almost looked like a puppy with those baby blues and his dark hair parted and styled to frame his face like that. Evan couldn’t resist the urge to turn in his arms and pull his face down to kiss him senseless, breaking away to hear soft laughter spilling from his lips. “We gotta get goin’, Ev,” Tyler said fondly, a smile on his face as he pressed a couple kisses to his cheek.

“ _ You and I - meant to fly _ .” Evan murmured, wrapping his arms around Tyler’s neck as his boyfriend laughed more against him. “You can’t keep quoting your songs on me, man,” Tyler teased, both sharing fond smiles before he squeezed him gently. “Come on - the guys’ll be expecting us in a couple days.”

 

Winking, Evan simply responded with a, “ _ You read my mind, _ ” and finger-gunning Tyler, who simply rolled his eyes with a fond look and left him to his packing as his wheezing laughter followed him out of the room.


	28. Right Where We Are

Brock had heard the voice echoing softly throughout their house, empty of the loud Irishmen - sent on the little mission of walking their dogs. Mark, still recovering from a cold, had opted to stay back and Brock, motherly as he could be, stayed back as well to take care of him. He’d just been writing things down - a list of possible things to get Mark for his birthday and a general grocery list when the soft voice reached his ears, echoing in their incredibly quiet home almost an hour after Brian and Jack left.

 

_ When your legs don’t work like they used to before... _

 

He listened for a moment before he got to his feet, flipping the notebook down and following the sound of one of his loves.

 

_ And I can’t sweep you off of your feet _ …

 

A little smile tugged at Brock’s lips as he peered past the wall and saw Mark sat on the stairs, his guitar in his hands as he strummed gently in tune to the song. Did he think Brock went with Brian and Jack?

 

_ Will your mouth still remember the taste of my love? _

 

Oh, it was hard to resist the desire to walk up and shower him in love and kisses, to usher him back to bed lest the cold came back.

 

_ Will your eyes still smile from your cheeks? _

 

His own voice startled him when his mouth opened, the soft lyrics passing his lips to mix with Mark’s, getting louder until his boyfriend’s quieted and he looked up with wide eyes to see Brock standing there with such a sweet smile on his face, eyes full of nothing but  _ love _ .

 

_ And darling, I will be loving you ‘til we’re seventy _ ...

 

Mark didn’t get up, and Brock didn’t waste a second in strolling over to rest warm hands against his cheeks as their noses brushed, sweet smiles on both their faces as their voices blended together so smoothly.

 

_ And baby, my heart could still fall as hard at twenty-three _ ...

 

That’s what Brian and Jack stumbled upon when they returned home not a minute later, the dogs delighting in joining Mark and Brock as they danced together slowly, such fond, loving looks as they sang so softly together.

 

_ And I’m thinking ‘bout how people fall in love in mysterious ways _ .

 

Brock stepped back to take one of Mark’s hands, fingers entwining as Brian and Jack just watched the sight before them, reluctant to interrupt like the dogs had, but it didn’t pull their attention off each other.

 

_ Maybe just the touch of a hand _ ...

 

Brock and Mark laughed when they looked over to see their dumbfounded irishmen, so clearly in love with the two before them. They were more than happy to join in, all four dancing along to the gentle music. This time, Brian was the one to surprise them as he wrapped his arms around Brock and Jack’s necks, leaning closer to share a little kiss of his own with Mark as he grinned at the three of them.

 

_ Oh, me, I fall in love with you every single day - and I just wanna tell you I am. _

 

Brock’s giggles were infectious, sending them all into a giggle fit as he tried to continue the sweet song over his soft laughter.

 

_ So honey now, take me into your loving arms. _

 

Mark didn’t hesitate to drag Brock closer with a smile, listening to those giggles that warmed his heart increase in volume as a kiss was pressed into his cheek, Brock’s head resting on his shoulder.

 

_ Kiss me under the light of a thousand stars _ .

 

Kisses from all three of them pressed to Mark’s face this time, grins, smiles and laughter at the blush and the big smile the affection drew from him.

 

_ Place your head on my beating heart _ .

 

Brian teasingly pulled Jack down, arms around his shoulders as his head met his chest as if he were one of those overprotective parents and making them laugh yet again just as he intended as all four of them carried on, voices echoing and mixing together with their audible delight to just be together and spend time together.

  
_ I’m thinking out loud - maybe we found love right where we are _ .


	29. Stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i forgot i have an au with photographer delirious, moo and smii7y and gods evan, brian and john.  
> this is a short birthday fic for one of my faves; Smit!!!

They shouldn’t be all that surprised that the god of the wind knew the best places to relax, knew of the best open fields of flowers to lay under a clear sky with the entirety of space and endless stars at their feet, knowing full well if they asked for such a thing, if they asked for the sun and moon, their dearest wind god would go through hell and high water to present them with exactly that, simply because they asked.

But they didn’t ask for the sun and moon and stars.

They asked for a view. They asked for an endless sky. They asked for a hand to hold and a fragrant place to collect their thoughts. They asked for anything he could offer with ease, and as the three of them lay in the field, Jaren curled up against John as the wind god and his companion watched the endless stars above them, from familiar shapes to constellations they’d never heard of before, to constellations they made on their own. Made up goofy stories to match goofy shapes above their heads.

They both barely noticed the click of a camera, but they did notice the flash. While Jaren whined about the flash, John glancing over to see Jon sat cross legged in the grass and flowers beside them, a fond smile on his face as he gazed down at the camera in his hands, looking over the picture before he shifted closer and looked up at the constellations above them.

He pointed to a cluster, all sorts of stars in close proximity, with one hand while the other took one of John’s, and when he had both hands entwined with one of theirs, he said, “Th- that’s us.” “A cluster?” John questioned, and Jon nodded. “Ti- til it’s gone, it- it’s gonna be there for- for- forever, man. Always go- gonna look up and- and- and you’re gonna see the cluster! It’s- it’s like us.”

Jaren nodded slowly, like it made perfect sense - and it did. When they found themselves falling asleep in the field, Jon was the first to drop off, head dropped against John’s shoulder and causing him to carefully lay them back in the fields, practically piled on top of each other for the closeness.

_I have never known sleep like the slumber that creeps to me_   
_I have never known color like this morning reveals to me_

When they awoke, the sun was high in the sky and the clouds of them formed all kinds of pretty shapes reflected in three sets of bright eyes, no words spoken between them - no words _needed._

_We lay here for years or for hours, your hand in my hand_   
_So still and discreet, so long we become the flowers_


End file.
